Wherever I May Roam
by American Soldier
Summary: Xander is sent away, and as a result, meets his greatest enemy...
1. The Flagg

HIS GREATEST ENEMY

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

A/N: a special shout-out to the one we know as Sai King, long days and pleasant nights, good sir!

ҲҲҲ

In the upper-realms of 'Heaven,' every higher being was shuddering in fear. Never had such fear been felt in that world, not since the days when Lucifer, the Morning Star, had declared war in Heaven, or since the day that a mortal actually penetrated Heaven's gates and made for the throne of God. No, fear was being felt as it had rarely been before, thanks to one sole fact.

Cordelia Chase was PISSED!

"What the Fuck do you think you're doing," the higher being shouted as she stormed the office of her superior, a young looking woman dressed in a flannel shirt and a long brown skirt.

She started to speak, but was interrupted as Cordelia continued on in her tirade.

"HE'S IN HELL," she shouted, "Xander…he's in Hell," she finished, her anger dying for a moment.

Yes, speaking now is the Cordelia Chase of the world most are familiar with. In point of fact, this was the Cordelia Chase of a world which some have called the keystone world. Like most of those who were 'dead' or in a higher plane of existence, she spent most of her time watching the living. While it was frowned upon to watch individuals (she preferred the likes of Christian Bale and Daniel Craig) in situations such as sex or showering, it was not forbidden. However, Cordelia spent most of her free time watching the worlds that she hadn't known existed. She had taken a break from watching a world in which Xander Harris had been sent to a Hell dimension and had come out of it with knowledge of the future, a world she liked to refer to as 'The Road to Hell,' intending to go and watch a world in which she had been an actress with 'Galaxy Quest,' a television show that was essentially a rip-off of her world's _Star Trek_, when this world had caught her attention.

Now, in most worlds, Xander Harris wound up in either a decent situation or in a situation she knew that she couldn't affect without breaking the rules. This was the first time, however, she had seen him be sent to Hell, the literal Hell. She was certain there were other worlds in which he would be sent to Hell, but she had never seen them, and doubted there were many. The sheer shock of seeing someone that she cared about be sent to Hell in a way she knew was irreversible…it nearly destroyed her to see it happen. The pain of how it had happened, though…that would haunt her forever.

However, she knew it was reversible…divine intervention was one thing she knew very well.

"You've got to help him," Cordelia demanded, staring at the person seated before her, "I've watched him since the day he was born, he's a good person, he does NOT deserve this…he doesn't deserve Hell!"

She stared back at Cordelia for a long moment, then motioned for her to go on.

"The night the Hellmouth opened," Cordelia began, knowing that the night in question would be remembered, "Xander, in my world, helped by killing the zombies and stopping the bomb from going off. In the world I speak of, Giles was too late in casting the spell…and Xander jumped into the Hellmouth to end it, to send that icky-tentacle thing back to Hell. That wasn't supposed to happen! That shouldn't have happened!! You have to do something."

She shrugged, indicating that what had happened in that world was simply what had happened, and nothing more.

"I can't believe it," Cordelia said, "You, of all people, should know how undeserving he is of Hell! Surely there must be some justice in this thing called a multiverse!?"

She glared at her for a moment, then leaned back and looked up at the sky. For a long moment, nothing was said, then Cordelia jumped slightly as she heard a snap, turning her attention to the other in the room. She stood up from the chair and walked over to a shelf, pulled out a book, briskly walked back with a large smile, and presented the book to her.

"_The Stand_," Cordelia read, "Yes, I know, Stephen King's a great author, but what…wait…you can't possibly mean…"

She nodded, indicating that that was exactly what was meant.

"You're going to send Xander to face Walter," Cordelia demanded, incredulous at the turn of events, "Xander will be killed!"

She stared at her.

"…Ok, so, that's better than Hell, but still," Cordelia stuttered for a moment, before sighing and saying, "It's the only way you'll help him out, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"…Why him," Cordelia asked, beseeching Her, "I mean, he wants to overthrow You!"

God nodded, indicating that She knew Cordelia was right, but turned around and pointed to a wall. It became a television screen instantly, showing Cordelia a world that she was not familiar with.

"…Walter's behind this," Cordelia asked, and She shook Her head, "Then…he takes advantage of it, brings it down," God nodded, frowning, "And you think Xander will be able to stop it," God shrugged.

"I think," Cordelia didn't even jump as the new voice joined the one-sided conversation, "She's doing this to simply appease you, childe."

"The Voice," Cordelia stifled a groan as she greeted him.

"The Mouth," Metatron greeted her sarcastically, sitting himself down on God's desk as he did so, "And just who do you think you are, questioning the will of God?"

God reached out and touched Metatron, causing him to nod in understanding.

"Oh, I see," Metatron said with a small smile of understanding, "You are sticking your nose into other people's business because he's a friend, how lovely."

"Hey, get off your high horse, we make a business of sticking our noses into their business," Cordelia reminded him, "So, this one is a bit personal to me. Like you telling J-Man His destiny wasn't personal?"

Metatron frowned at her, but maintained control as he replied, "Jesus was the savior, not a boy who wound up in a spot of bother!"

"He's a boy who saved the world by damning himself when he would've gotten into Heaven," Cordelia replied, her voice dropping to a dangerously low volume.

God silenced both of them with a look, then pressed 'play' on Her stereo, letting _Stairway to Heaven_ come on as She did so.

"Obviously, She's made Her decision on the matter," Metatron exclaimed, "While I can understand where you come from, childe," Cordelia bristled at the reference to her status in Heaven, "Know that it is not wise to involve yourself in matters which do not concern you."

"The day my friends' well-being doesn't concern me," Cordelia replied, staring at him in contempt as she did so, "Is the day I'll go join the other side!"

With that said, she bowed before the Lord of Lords and walked away.

"…I can see why You like her," Metatron said as he came up to God, "The little girl has a mouth on her, true, but she's got a spirit, and her heart is in the right place."

God nodded, having known that already, enjoying the sound of what She considered to be Her anthem. Granted, it was created by a band who in certain worlds had sold their soles to Lucifer in exchange for fame and wealth and women, but it was still a good song.

"I just hope you know what you're doing," Metatron said with a sigh, staring down at the book, "I mean, sending him to face Walter Padick? The man wants to _become_ You."

God nodded, but expressed no other concern.

"Alright, I trust in You, of course," Metatron commented, "But, I want it on record that I don't think it's a good idea."

God smiled at him, then patted him on the head as one would a dog, but Metatron was not offended at all.

"Ugh, alright," Metatron said, then She disappeared, "Oh, c'mon! It's not even skeeball season yet!"

ҲҲҲ

It was bright.

That was the first thing that Xander noticed as he began to wake up. Of course, this was nothing new. Hell was very brightly lit, with the fires that came with it. But, no, it wasn't that it was bright that he noticed…it was the light itself. Hell was personified by a hot, red/orange light that reminded him of Sunnydale and spinach, for reasons that escaped him. He always thought it was because both were of Hell.

Groaning out in pain, Xander slowly tried to bring himself to his knees, but found that he did not have the strength to. He shivered slightly, realizing that he was cold. Hell, he found, was never quite this cold.

The light disappeared for a long moment, and he stiffened, recognizing a body for what it was, though he could not bring himself to open his eyes.

"Well," a voice said above him, "Looks like you got yourself into one Hell of a jam, son."

Xander groaned out as he tried to open his eyes. Slowly, very slowly, he squinted against the light, the NEW light, and stared at the man above him.

He was tall, with a devilishly handsome face that made Xander both infinitely jealous and very frightened. He was dressed in an outfit composed entirely of jeans, jean pants, a denim jacket with buttons on it (a peace sign, an odd white button with a red Egyptian looking eye on it, and an odd white one with a smiley face on it but that appeared to be bleeding to name a few). He had long, flowing hair that he imagined would be very nice, even in this heat. He lowered his gaze due to the sun and noted the oddly sharp cowboy boots on his feet. He had pamphlets in his pockets sticking out, the first that he could read being promotions for Green Peace and a warning about global warming.

Xander turned his head away as the light became too much for him to bare. The man chuckled and squatted down beside him.

"I appear to be a might bit overdressed, son," the man said cheerfully almost.

"Wha," Xander gasped out, rubbing his throat as he did so, trying to get the soreness out of his body.

The man pointedly looked down, and Xander followed his gaze, finding himself to be totally naked. Neither he, nor his companion, were embarrassed in the least.

"Oh," Xander said.

"Here," the man pulled out a bag and opened it up, revealing a pair of jeans and handing them to him, "Just keep 'em, ya hear."

"…Thanks," Xander said, groaning and laying back down as he did so, "Where am I?"

"Southern California, son," the man said with a laugh, "Don't you know your geography?"

"The date," Xander asked, ignoring the man's humor.

"You're a curious one, ain'cha," the man said, "Today's October 7, 2008."

"…My God," Xander muttered to himself, "It's been almost ten years."

"What's that now," the man asked curiously.

"Nothing," Xander whimpered, "Just…muttering to myself."

He heard the man shrug, and Xander turned his face to look up at him.

"Who are you," Xander asked.

"Well, who are you, son," the man asked with a smile, "I'll tell ya my name if you tell me yours…and why you're naked in the middle of the desert…and why you don't remember the date."

"…Xander Harris," he extended his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Xander," the man grasped his hand, and Xander immediately felt his entire hand go cold, "Hope you guess my name."

"How can I," Xander asked.

"…Nevermind," the man laughed at some seemingly inside joke, "My name's Flagg…Randall Flagg."


	2. The Learning

WHEREVER I MAY ROAM

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Randall Flagg, known to some as the 'walkin' dude,' had led a fairly nomadic lifestyle these past few months. Ever since the fall of Gilead and Roland's travels had began, he had been leading the gunslinger out towards the ocean. It was one of his many assigned jobs in this world, but one that he did with a small sense of pride and satisfaction. Roland irked him, irked him in a way that no man had ever irked him, not even as his father had back when he had been known as Walter Padick.

Still, there was work to be done, but more than enough time for it to be done, enough time for him to engage in his own projects, all of which came first and foremost in Flagg's mind. While he was currently employed by that spider, he was always more concerned with his goals, meaningful (or –less) as they were.

So, after finishing his business with Roland of Gilead, the walkin' dude had taken a semi-leave of absence from the King's service. He had traveled along the roads of the worlds, going where he felt like going, until time had come when he had arrived in a place he had not yet visited. It was almost as though something had drawn him there. It reminded him of the pull of the Beams of the Dark Tower, the Tower upon which God sat on His throne.

A frown crossed his face momentarily at that thought, but he put it aside.

Today had been perhaps the most interesting day of his travels. Not for any other reason than the fact that he had never stumbled across a naked man in the middle of the desert before.

The man had jet black hair, wounds all over his body that told of a hard life, but most interestingly was his aura. His aura told of a man who had suffered, for others or for a cause, but whatever it was, this man had the mark on him, a mark that he knew very well.

The Mark of Hell.

He had been touched by Hell, and as a result, Flagg had little doubt that this man had been brought into his life for a purpose. What that purpose was, though, Flagg would have to discern for himself.

ҲҲҲ

Xander put on the jeans with a groan, readjusting them to ensure that they didn't open any of his wounds up. Life had not been kind to him, but that was alright. He was fairly used to it.

"What happened to you, boy," Flagg asked him, genuinely curious.

"Mister, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Xander muttered, "Hell, I'm not even sure if I believe it."

Flagg reminded Xander of two things: Hell and Christopher Walken. Only one was he fond of, and the other he hated with all his might.

"Try me, son," Flagg said with a sly grin, "There's more things in Heaven and Earth than either of us will believe."

"…Do you believe in magic," Xander asked, sighing to himself.

"In a young girl's heart," Flagg said with a grin, bringing a small grin to Xander's face, "Absolutely. If you mean 'hocus pocus' and 'Avada Kedabra' and all that jazz from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Xander had a puzzled look on his face, as he had been in Hell when Harry Potter had launched off the bookstands, "Well…"

Flagg held up his hand and snapped his fingers, causing a large flame to come off his thumb. Flagg idly reached into his jacket pocket, producing a cigarette from it and he lit it with his thumb-fire, and began to suck in the nicotine as Xander watched in surprise.

"Smoke," Xander shook his head at the offer, causing Flagg to laugh and say, "Good," he blew out the flame and tossed the cigarette onto the ground, stamping it out with his foot as he did so, "Those things'll kill you, y'know."

"So I've heard," Xander said with a smile, starting to like Flagg, if only for his sense of humor, "So, I take it you're a wizard."

"I prefer the term 'professional endeavourer of the illusionary and fantastical arts,' if you would," Flagg cackled kindly to him.

"Well, to keep a long story short," Xander started, "I assume you know of the Hellmouth?"

Flagg's face lost his smile, suddenly replaced by a still look that frightened Xander very much.

"The Hellmouth," Flagg whispered in something akin to awe, but not quite so, "It opened, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Xander confirmed, "It was a spell designed to end the world. The only way to end it was for someone to sacrifice themselves…"

"And you drew the lucky straw," Flagg concluded, reevaluating Xander on the spot, finding himself liking the man more and less at the same time. Any man who would give his life up for the world that most likely never knew of him, let alone of his sacrifice, was a dangerous man to him.

"Yeah," Xander confirmed, "If it's 2008 as you say, that means it's been…ten years since then."

"That means you've been in Hell that long," Flagg now understood where his aura came from, "Wow…that must've been a pickle."

"You've no idea," Xander remarked, "So, you said we're in Southern California. Do you know how far we are from LA?"

"About a day's walk," _or a moment's teleport_, Flagg said aloud and thought to himself, "Is that where you're from?"

"No, the Hellmouth is in Sunnydale," Xander supplied, "Sunnydale's only two hours by car from LA."

"…Sunnydale," Flagg had only been in this world a grand total of several hours (of course, who was to know for sure, as this world was starting to move on), but even at that short amount of time, he had learned enough of it to know what was what, "You don't wanna go there, son."

"Why," Xander asked, an aggressive tone entering his voice, "What happened?"

Flagg sighed, wondering what was going to come of this, "Well, I guess I might as well show you."

Flagg snapped his fingers.

ҲҲҲ

Xander gasped as he reappeared on a cliff edge, looking all the way down at a drop to the desert that would end with a sudden stop. He barely managed to maintain his balance and not fall, but that had been enough for his heart to skip a beat and leave him gasping.

"Sorry," Flagg said to his right, and the man sounded anything but, "Forgot that some people aren't used to moving that fast."

Flagg turned his gaze away from him and stared out across the desert. He pointed out towards the west, and Xander followed his gaze.

The first thing he noticed was the setting sun. It blocked his view of things for a moment, as he could not really see what was ahead of him in the light. Light still hurt his eyes, or at least sunlight did.

His eyes adjusted after a moment, and he saw what Flagg was pointing out to him. Before him was a field of death. Dead tanks, fighters, machines of war littered the desert before him, and he could make out lines of thing in the air, perhaps posted into the air…crucified soldiers, with their guns still hanging off their bodies as they hung like ripened fruit.

Directly behind this field of death was a large shape, transparent in form. It looked like a sphere of some kind, disappearing into the ground. His mind told him that it resembled a force field, like the ones used in science fiction movies and television shows.

"What is it," Xander asked.

"In 2000, the world as it was known came to an end," Xander turned to him in shock, "A biomechanical entity was combined with demonic and human parts. It was called Adam, for obvious reasons. It was born in Sunnydale. A group of people tried to stop it, but they failed. After that, Adam's been on the warpath. He's conquered most of the West Coast, and has taken parts of Asia and the Middle East. Europe and Africa remain mostly free, though Adam has taken Italy, except for the Vatican City."

"It sounds like this Adam's the antichrist," Xander said, mostly to himself.

Flagg laughed suddenly, laughing like a man who has heard something both absurdly funny and extremely offensive.

"Adam is not the antichrist," Flagg said with a thin smile, "Adam's a thief in the night, stealing away humanity from itself. Under other circumstances, I could grow to like the bastard."

Xander shrugged at that, thinking that Flagg was not as impressed with Adam as he was letting on.

"What happened to the people who tried to stop it," Xander asked.

"There were six of them," Flagg explained, "College students, for the most part. Half of them are dead, the other three…one of them's amongst the humans, the other two…"

He pointed to the dome.

"What," Xander asked, thoroughly scared out of his mind.

"Come," Flagg said with a sad smile, "Let's go see the other side of the map."


	3. InGroup

WHEREVER I MAY ROAM

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

"Listen up, morons," a harsh voice interrupted the goings-on in the makeshift field hospital, "I realize not one damned one of you knows what the Hell you are doing, but you had better wise the FUCK up, or I swear on Brittany Spears' ghost, I will duct tape you up to Adam himself!"

A group of fourteen or so men and women, most of them in their mid-twenties looked on, each dressed in scrubs, some of them obviously too big or too small to be of proper usage. The man speaking was dressed in a pair of scrubs pants, a black t-shirt, and a white lab coat, along with a Colt 1911 strapped to his waist, as did most everyone in the room. He had a distinguished (not to mention angered) face, with curly hair and blue eyes that told you just how pissed off he was.

Perry Cox was a veteran of both medicine and the war. He had been at Sacred Heart Hospital, just outside of San Francisco, when the war had left Sunnydale and Los Angeles and Adam's forces had attacked. He had barely escaped with his life, and as it was, he was the only member of his family to escape the destruction. There were, however, two other survivors of Sacred Heart to escape the destruction.

Pushing away thoughts of his wife and child, Perry Cox focused his mind on the issue at hand.

"Now, I know most of were only in your first or second year of med-school, but you'd damn sure better get used to this, or else you WILL kill someone, and I don't think any of you want that on your conscience. Every single mistake you make has the potential to kill someone, just as much as those shock troops of his do. Each of you have your twelve hour shifts to work, and after those twelve hours are up, I want each and every-y-y-yyyyy one of you in those books for no less than three hours.

"Times are hard, people. It's time to grow the fuck up. NOW GO!!!"

Perry whistled, signaling the end of his rant. Sighing, the Chief of Medicine for the Free Zone turned away from the trainees as they scurried away, heading towards one of his own assigned patients.

"Gimme the skinnie, Barbie," Perry said, coming up beside his closest friend and colleague.

"Sgt. Powell's got radiation burns from that exposed uranium core that he shot," Dr. Elliot Reed informed him, "He's got radiation sickness, but it's a mild case, so the mages should be able to fix him up. He should be back in the platoons in a week or so."

"Good," Perry said, touching his nose and folding his arms in thought, "Back to the slaughter."

"Don't say that out loud, Perry," Elliot cautioned, replacing her chart as she did so and turning to him.

The war had taken its toll on Elliot as well. The losses of J.D., Turk, Carla, and her own family had hit her hard, and she had considered suicide for a long time after the war broke out. Finally, though, Perry had been able to talk some sense into her abnormally thick skull. After countless battles, she had gained a noticeable scar along her neck and almost permanent bags under her eyes, but she ignored these as she dressed in her scrubs every day to go to work.

"Oh, gimme a break, Barboo," Perry said, walking away from the bed with her and raising his arms over his head as he did so, "We're getting our asses handed to us out there. The mages can't break through that goddamned dome of his, and not even the almighty Slayer can take on even one of his damned Borg corpses."

"She is new to this," Elliot reminded her, "Amy is barely a woman in her own right, and I personally think it's wrong to put so much pressure on her shoulders."

"Well, obviously, God doesn't agree with you, even though I do," Perry said, sighing, "A girl from Trailer Park, California given the duty of defending the world. In what way is that right?"

"None that I can see," Elliot said, "Incidentally, you need to check on her uncle. One of the humvees fell onto his leg."

"Oh, great," Perry said, "Our chief mechanic has a leg injury, that makes things easy as Hell. With our massive casualties, the general's head up his own ass, and now this, what else can go wrong?"

Anyone from the Hellmouth would know that it was a very bad idea to ask such a question.

As Perry took a step for the hallway, a blinding light and a crack like a gunshot echoed throughout the room. Perry stepped back, feeling the intense heat of the blast, and immediately reached for his radio. He had been around enough magical things to know what the residual energy from a teleportation spell felt like.

"Code Mike, repeat, Code Mike," Perry shouted into the radio, "Magical intruder at the ICU, repeat, magical intruder at the ICU!"

"Whoa, hold your role, partner," a kind-ish voice said to him, "We mean you no harm."

"What he said," another more gravelly voice agreed, "Only less cowboy-ish."

Perry looked at the two new arrivals and automatically raised an eyebrow. Two men were standing there, one dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, and a denim jacket with buttons all over it. He had a rock star like face and hair, and Perry found himself immediately disliking the man. There was something about him that made Perry, a man who feared little in this world, scared. The other man was cut and bruised in almost every corner of his body, and was dressed only in a pair of jeans, nothing else. He looked like a man who had been through much in his life, and he was in great shape, even though he looked to be in his late thirties. His eyes, though, betrayed both a softness and a hardness that left Perry perplexed and Elliot stunned.

"Stay where you are," Perry said, brining his sidearm up as he did so, "If you mean what you say, get down on the floor right now!"

As the two shared a look and a simple nod, Perry took a moment to note that Elliot had also withdrawn her pistol and was holding it was an ease and steadiness that once would have shaken him to his core, but now served as a comfort.

The MPs came in and searched both the men, and neither were found to be armed. One of the MPs was a mage, as per SOP, and informed Perry that both men had incredibly high levels of magic surrounding them. As they were bound and hefted up, neither men looked particularly happy, with the situation, but Perry got the feeling that the long-haired one was especially enraged at being bound, but he was cooperating.

"What do you think that was about," Elliot asked him.

"I dunno," Perry muttered, "I just know I don't like it."

ҲҲҲ

Randall Flagg was enraged that he had allowed himself to be taken by these people, people like the ones he had ruled over once before. But, since the beginning of this whole chain of events, Flagg had been thinking of that world where the superflu had wiped out 99.4 percent of the world's population…how things had gone so wrong at the end…

…and how he had a chance to do it right now.

So, he kept his cool, as some would say, and allowed the MP to take him to a holding cell where he would surely be questioned…he kept his cool with a smile and a secret look as his eyes went dark in thought.


	4. Questions

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Amy Fitzpatrick inhaled for a long moment, then let it out slowly, savoring the experience. As she did so, she leaned back in her hammock and looked up at the sky as the fighter jets passed overhead, preparing for another attempt at Adam's dome. She doubted their success.

"Hey, Amy," a redheaded man dressed in camouflage greeted her as he sat down in the chair beside her, "How's it goin'?"

"About as good as it could go, Dave," Amy said to her friend/uncle-in-law, "I'm sitting here on a beautiful day, the sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky…except those made by F-17s as they go to bomb the shit outta a magic shield that'll hold up just as well as it did yesterday…and the day before."

"Yeah," Dave said, "Way to bring a man down, Amy."

Amy offered him her joint to make up for it, and the pothead/soldier took it with glee on his elfin-like face.

"So, what's up with the two dumbasses who teleported right into the hospital," Amy asked, knowing that Dave had been one of the MPs to capture the two.

"They call themselves Randall Flagg and Xander Harris," Dave told her, "Both of 'em have got mondo levels of magic around them, but it looks like only Flagg is a mage."

"Awesome," Amy said with a small smile, "Hopefully they're both here to help us out."

"Or spy on us," Dave said with a frown.

"Now who's the pessimist," she said with a grin.

Dave stuck out his tongue, and Amy responded in kind.

"Ugh, thanks for the weed, Aims," Dave said, standing up from his seat, "I'm gonna go get some food then head back to the shop and pass out."

"I wouldn't count on it," Amy told him, "The girl's working on those wrecked humvees that we managed to save right now, and you know Tommy won't let up till she's finished."

Dave laughed and said, "Sometimes I really hate that anal-retentive streak in him, ugh, I mean her…scratch that, I hate it all the time. Want me to say hey for you?"

"Yeah, tell Aunt Erin and Titus I'll try and be by after my patrol," Amy said, taking another puff of her joint and reaching down to pull up her laptop, "I wanna work on my journal right now. Also, tell dino-head not to smoke all the pot for his leg."

"Alrighty then," Dave said, walking away from her, "Stay clean!"

"Where's the fun in that," Amy called as he walked away.

ҲҲҲ

Staff Sgt. Cooper watched in the background as Lt. Graves stared into the window, watching the man dressed in jeans and denim and cowboy boots as he walked (_stalked_) around his cell with a smile.

"Baby, can you dig your man? He's a righteous man! Tell me, baby, can you dig your ma-a-a-an?!"

_That song's catchy_, Cooper thought to himself, though for the life of him he had never heard it before.

"…He's at least a nineteen," Graves said finally, "At least. Maybe as high as twenty-three. And he's old…he's been touched by both Heaven and Hell…Hell most recently, but not as much as his friend."

Nineteen. That made Cooper sweat. Their head of occult research, Rupert Giles, was only a five. Their head Wiccan, Tara McClay, was only an eleven, and she was the third most powerful mage they knew of, including Willow Rosenberg, the seventeen. A nineteen…

Cooper shrugged such thoughts away. He had never met a mage that a sniper couldn't kill, not so long as they didn't see it coming. If they did…

"Recommendations," Cooper asked, hefting up his notepad.

"…Have Tara question him," Graves said, "Along with the General. We need to hear him out, though. Someone with that much power on the sidelines is not a good idea."

ҲҲҲ

Xander Harris watched the room with a vacant expression as he lost himself in thought. He could hear Flagg in the next room, singing some song that kinda snapped with Xander, it sounded good, but not like any song he'd ever heard before.

His mind turned to his companion. Flagg was not a good man, that much he knew already. But, just because he wasn't a good man didn't mean that he was evil. Being in Hell for so long had warped his opinion on people, mostly because he had interacted with the people that were already there.

Shuddering at that thought, he returned his attentions to Flagg. He was curious as to what Flagg wanted, and as to why Flagg had chosen to bring him along for this, he didn't know, nor did he really care. Flagg was the only person who'd given a fuck about him in more than ten years, and that was something that Xander appreciated more than he could honestly believe.

Xander came to his feet as the door opened.

ҲҲҲ

Rupert Giles walked into the Californian Free Zone detention center (an old police station which served as a primary base of operations for the area) with a weariness in his body that even a blind man could see. Eight years had passed since he and his children had failed to contain the horror that was Adam.

Shortly after Adam took over Sunnydale, turning humans and demons into hybrids with human personalities, Adam had scoured the world for mages to use. The government chose to keep Adam's existence and his overthrowing of Sunnydale a secret, fearing the panic it would cause. Instead, this had only hastened Adam's attack on Los Angeles, leaving the National Guard completely overwhelmed when Adam's forces came in. Immediately afterward, the government ordered a nuclear strike on Sunnydale…only to encounter a wall of pure energy…thus introducing the world to magic.

Magic that was being siphoned from mages…including Willow. There were almost two hundred mages behind that wall, one hundred pouring constant energy into the wall every six hours, changing between the two groups to keep the wall at optimal efficiency. To Adam, the mages were batteries…nothing more.

That was what Rupert felt would win the war, if anything would. Adam didn't trust magic. He used it sparingly, and refused to depend on it. He preferred his science to anything else. Magic could overwhelm science…or aid it. He wanted to use both magic and science to destroy Adam's science. He knew the two, if applied properly, could beat just the one.

However, as he walked along those hallways, he couldn't help thinking of what had happened earlier today. He had felt a shiver go through him, like someone had just walked over his own grave. Then, he'd received an email from Tara, the strongest witch they had on their side at the moment, informing him that she had felt a tear through the world, as though something had torn a hole into space and stepped through it. Several hours later, the same thing had happened again, only Giles (and most other mages in the world) had felt an intense heat, like a sudden fever coming and going within a moment's notice.

This time, there was no questioning it…a Hellmouth had been opened for a moment, and it had released its hellish energies.

Now, for two beings touched by magic to suddenly appear so close to the Hellmouth where Adam had set up his works…it was clear that the two instances were closely related.

Sighing, Giles walked into the observation room…and felt himself go numb as he saw who was inside.

ҲҲҲ

"…Giles," Xander exclaimed in a mixture of happiness and confusion.

He could not speak anymore after that, as he was knocked off of his feet by a powerful blow that came from Giles himself.


	5. Questioning

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

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"YOU SODDING BASTARD," Giles shouted as he kicked Xander in the ribs.

Xander took it for a moment longer, then suddenly rose up and grabbed Giles by the neck, pinning him against the wall. A moment later, the MPs came in, both trailing their rifles at him.

"Let him go," the redheaded one that had helped detain him shouted, "Let him go or I swear to God I'll fill your ass with led!!"

"Fuck off," Xander said to him, "This is between me and G-man here."

"Hold your fire," Giles gasped out, "Don't kill him."

"What he said," Xander said, not taking his eyes off of Giles, "Now…I promise to set you down and you play nice?"

Giles glared at him, but reluctantly nodded. Xander nodded in return and gently eased him down, then moved away from both him and the MPs, letting Giles rub his throat.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Giles said to the MPs, "Please…give us some privacy."

"I don't think that's" the redhead began.

"Privacy," Giles interrupted him sternly, "Please."

"…Yes, sir," the redhead said, and the two MPs reluctantly exited the room.

"…Alright, now what the Hell is up with you beating the crap outta me," Xander said in a deceptively calm voice.

"You deserve it," Giles said to him, "You abandoned us, you pillock!"

"…How the fuck did I abandon you," Xander asked, his voice rising, "I went to Hell for you bastards!!"

"…What," Giles asked, confused.

"Alright, let's try this," Xander said, taking a deep breath and letting it out softly, "What happened to me in this world?"

"You went on your summer trip and never returned," Giles said to him, glaring still, "We thought you were dead."

"…Alright, then," Xander said, figuring out what was going on, "I think you might wanna take a seat."

ҲҲҲ

"Whoa," Amy Fitzpatrick said as she entered the observation room, where the one called Flagg was pacing in his room, singing that same song as before.

"What is it," she looked to her left as Tara McClay came up beside her.

Amy, dressed in her issued pair of camouflage pants and an Army green tank top, ran a hand through her red hair as she observed the White Witch. Tara was several years older than her, already in her late twenties, maybe even as old as thirty. She was dressed in camouflage just as her, but also had a white cord along her left shoulder, signifying her status as a mage. She was wearing a beret with the mage insignia (a lightning bolt and a book, with the lightning bolt resembling the one that Harry Potter had for a scar) and had a utility belt that was filled with various magical items, as well as her .45. Amy herself was only carrying a stake, knife, and a .44, she was practically naked when compared to the White Witch…which was not unappealing to her.

She wiped the silly grin off her face, recognizing that a romance between herself and Tara was very unlikely. Both were fighting a war, and odds were neither would live to see the end of the week.

"He's powerful," Amy said, "And…weird looking."

"Some people would find him attractive," Tara muttered, "Not me. But he is powerful…very power. Maybe even a demi-god."

"Is he a nineteen," Amy asked.

"…Yes," Tara said.

Amy looked over at her secret love, and saw a look of…fear on her face. Fear for the world to come, and for this man that was standing before them, singing about some woman who could dig her man. She saw that fear, and she decided that if she had her way, that fear would never be on her angelic face again.

ҲҲҲ

"…You…" Giles was speechless from what Xander had told him…speechless, but not doubtful.

"Suppose I don't believe you," Giles asked, "What proof could you offer?"

Xander stared at him for a moment, then simply stood and walked fully into the light, allowing the Englishman to see his scars and bruises and recoil in shock.

"Want any more proof," Xander asked, a calm anger in his voice.

"…No," Giles sighed, seemingly beside himself, "I'm…I'm sorry, Xander, for what happened to you…and for my…assault on your…"

"Bygones," Xander said, extending his hand to the Englishman, who gratefully took it.

Giles sighed and said, "It's been a rough few years without you."

"I heard," Xander said, "Giles…what happened?"

"…A government organization called 'The Initiative' created a biomechanical demon/human hybrid called Adam," Giles explained, "Buffy, Willow, myself, Oz, a soldier named Graham, and a girl named Anya snuck into the Initiative to destroy Adam…we failed, and all but myself were killed or captured.

"After that, Adam laid low for a time, then, he struck…he started by taking the mages in Sunnydale, for his shield…then, he attacked the world."

"…Willow," Xander asked.

"With about two-hundred other mages," Giles said with sorrow, "Powering his damned shield."

"…Buffy?"

Giles remained silent, his eyes downcast in sadness.

"Oh, God," Xander said, feeling the sadness come onto him.

"…Amy Fitzpatrick is the newest Slayer," Giles explained, "She's refused to take on a Watcher, unlike both the ones that were called after…Xander, there's something I need for you to understand. Buffy is dead, and nothing is bringing her back. Do you understand me?"

Xander stared at him, frightened by the intensity of his voice. Giles was telling him that she was dead…but, if she was dead, then why would he try to bring her back?

"Giles," Xander asked, "What is going on?"

ҲҲҲ

Flagg turned on his heel as the White Witch, Tara McClay, came in. He smiled disarmingly at her, clapping his hands together.

"Well, I have made quite a mess of things in my ignorance, haven't I," Randall said with a sheepish grin that didn't come anywhere near his eyes, "I sincerely apologize for that."

"Quite alright, Mr. Flagg," Tara said with a polite smile that didn't come anywhere near her eyes, "Please, take a seat."

"Well, thankya, but I think I'll stand," Flagg said with another smile.

"As you will, Mr. Flagg," Tara said, choosing to sit upon the table so as to remain at level height with him, "You and Mr. Harris gave us quite a scare today."

"Well, that was my fault, I didn't know we would appear in the middle of your infirmary," Randall said, still smiling, "So, you're Tara McClay? The White Witch of the humans."

Tara nodded, saying, "I'm sorry, Mr. Flagg, but I know nothing of you."

"Well, that doesn't surprise me, dear," Flagg said, still grinning, "I'm fairly new to these parts."

"So, what brought you here," Tara asked, confirmed in her notion that this man was responsible for at least one, if not both of the anomalies that occurred earlier.

"Why, I'm here to save the human race," Flagg said with a large smile.


	6. Hero

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

"Giles," Xander said, "What is it? Why are you telling me this?"

Giles sighed and began to clean his glasses, obviously beside himself as he prepared to say whatever it was he had to say.

"…Adam creates his forces through scientific means, Xander," Giles explained, "Think of each of his troops as Frankenstein's monster. But, each of his troops…was also once a human being."

Xander stared at him, his mind already made up, determined that Giles couldn't possibly be going where he thought he was going with this.

"He has four primary lieutenants under his command," Giles continued, "Riley Finn, a former solider with the Initiative. Amy Madison, your former classmate. Alexander Petrovski, a former colonel in the Russian Air Force. And…Buffy."

"…No," Xander said, "You can't be telling the truth."

Giles sighed for a long moment, then rose and left the room for a short while, then he returned with several pictures in his hands. He laid them down before him, and Xander took them up, angered by what he was saying.

As he looked at the pictures, he felt all his body go cold in disbelief and shock. They were pictures of battle, but they had been magnified to focus on one being in particular…he could easily make out who she was from the parts of her face that were still human…the rest of her, however, was covered in camouflage and demonic skin of a sickly gray color.

"…God," Xander whispered.

ҲҲҲ

"You're here to save the human race," Tara asked, no small amount of doubt in her voice.

"Well, yes ma'am, I am," Flagg said with his same smile, "I've been foretold since the very beginning. 'And He did so love the world that He gave His only begotten son' for blah, blah, blah. The point is…I'm back."

"You're saying…you're Jesus Christ," Tara asked in shock and doubt.

"Not exactly," Flagg said with a sad smile, "There are some who'd call me by that name, others Messiah, some would call me the Green Man, and some would go so far as to call me Vishnu. For all purposes, though, you may call me Flagg."

Amy watched with a cold look. As far as she was concerned, God was a myth told to children so that they would behave and had no place in a world such as this. For this man to come and claim otherwise was just…she was enraged beyond anything she had ever felt before, but even as she thought this, she had no choice but to wonder…what if he was telling the truth? There had never been a nineteen in the history of this world, even Merlin was only a fifteen…was it possible that this Flagg was telling the truth?

Before Tara could continue questioning him, however, an explosion echoed as the base was shaken to its foundation. Power went out for a moment, only to quickly come on as an alarm sounded.

"Code Dante!! Code Dante!! Prepare for ground and air assault!"

Dante was the designated code to let the base know that Adam was releasing his hordes of monsters that he found unsuitable towards his Frankenstein-like works. They were little more than animals, but he often tamed them and released them on the human forces. They were effect as shock troops…and pre-invasive forces.

"Well," Tara said with a stiff look on her face, "I guess we'll find out."

Flagg smiled, then disappeared, reappearing behind the White Witch and holding her in his arms.

"Indeed, we shall," Flagg said to her, then he disappeared again.

ҲҲҲ

Xander stared up at the ceiling with a grim look. He could feel them…somehow or another, he could feel them now. He could feel…Hell around him.

That feeling scared him to death…but it also filled him with fury. He felt cornered…and he did not like that feeling.

He came to his feet and turned to Giles. The Englishman did not even have to ask what he wanted, he merely nodded and walked over to the door. He signaled for he MPs and instructed them to outfit him with a vest and weapons.

ҲҲҲ

Amy put on her vest and grabbed an extra AK-47 as she did so. Adam mostly just released Hellhounds and some flying bat-like creatures that Mr. Giles called Ventrals. They were primarily sent out at random intervals to keep the human forces preoccupied…or, in some cases, to soften them up for an oncoming assault from the demonoids.

She felt someone come up behind her and instinctively turned around, coming face-to-face with Flagg as he stared at her with a smile.

"So, you're her," Flagg said with dark eyes, "The Slayer." He sniffed the air around her and gained a frown, "And the Stoner, apparently."

"In times like these, there are more important things than whether or not someone chooses to get high," Amy remarked with a frown.

"Users are unpredictable, unruly, and unreliable," Flagg said with a 'tsk, tsk, tsk' sound in his voice, "There is no place for them in society."

"If that's the Messiah's opinion," Amy responded, spitting the words into his face.

"Little girl, my patience is legendary," Flagg said, his grin thinning, "Don't break it…or you might get broken."

With that, Flagg disappeared once more.

ҲҲҲ

Dave stared at the Man from Hell with a suspicious gaze. He did not trust him, and he sincerely questioned Mr. Giles's choice in letting him participate in the battle.

"You doubt me," the man said all of a sudden.

"Why shouldn't I," Dave replied.

"You should," Xander said with a small smile, "That's what this is for. Proving myself, or at least trying to."

Dave nodded, understanding that. "I still don't trust you."

"Good," Xander said, "You're smarter than you look."

Dave stared at him, then nodded. Before the war, someone saying 'cow' would drive him into a frenzy as he loved the bovine creatures. The war, though, forced him to shape up in a way that would've made dear-old Dad proud…now, he had a sense of purpose, direction. He had something to fight for.

And, as he picked up his shotgun and loaded in the shells, he knew he would die fighting for it.

ҲҲҲ

"Where the Hell do you think you're going," Elliot shouted.

Perry continued packing in medicine as he answered her, "Adam likes to use those genetic Hellhounds of his, the ones with poison in their teeth. They're going to need someone with the anti-venom out there."

"But not the Chief of Medicine," Elliot said, ripping the medical equipment out of his hands and putting it aside, "Damn it, Perry, you cannot just continue risking your life like this!! Just because your family is dead doesn't give you a reason to go out there and try to get killed!!!"

"Damn it, Barbie," Perry shouted, "You act like I'm trying to kill myself!!"

"Aren't you," Elliot retorted, "At the very least, you're trying to get soldiers killed! They need you here, Perry, for both morale and because you're the best doctor we have!!"

"Someone has to be out there, Elliot," Perry said, very seriously.

"Yes," she agreed, "Someone does…but not you."

She ripped the bag out of his hands as she did so and placed the rest of he equipment inside, then strapped it around her shoulder and started away.

"BARBIE," Perry shouted as he went after her, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"I'm goin' out there," Elliot said, not bothering to turn to him as she walked away, "Get it together, Perry. They need you more than me, more than you need your family back, more than I want J.D., Turk, and Carla back…they need you, Perry! Can't you understand that?!"

Perry could not respond to that, and Elliot did not wait for a response.

ҲҲҲ

As the sun prepared to set for the oncoming night, soldiers lined up behind barricades, placing their weapons on the walls to steady their aim. Soldiers placed hundreds of weapons, ranging from RPGs to cannons were assembled to repel the creatures. In such times, all resources were used.

Dave and Xander were beside each other, both with their weapons positioned ahead, ready to take out the invaders.

Tara stood at the head of her platoon, each of them magic users. She would allow the soldiers their first wave of assault, while she and hers would take out the aviary monsters as they came in.

Amy stood near one of the platoons stationed at the center of the barricade. She had no real unit that she belonged to, and was allowed to roam the battlefield as she so pleased, having found that it was best to simply leave her to her own devices with some support at hand.

Elliot was positioned with the same platoon that Dave and Xander were in, one of three medics assigned to that platoon.

Flagg was standing upon a hill, watching as the wave of monsters came for the humans. He smiled as he watched the tactics being used by Adam. He would have to steal a few of them for himself. He turned his gaze to the humans. There was power down there…power, but not so much unity.

He was Messiah…Legion…he was the Anti-Christ…he was Walter o'Dim of Mid-World, Marten Broadcloak of Gilead, Randall Flagg of the Road, Walter Padick of Dilane, Emissary of the Crimson King and the Red and Black Thirteen, and kidnapper of Patty Hearst. Whatever he was called did not matter, for as he looked upon both monsters and humans, he was one thing and one thing only.

Death.


	7. Battle

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

They came hard, and they came fast. Xander barely had a moment's worth of thought before he was forced to unleash his bullets at the creatures that were coming at him. They were slobbering dogs with odd metallic collars around their throats. They moved oddly, though, for they resembled in every sense a rabid hound, but they moved with a sense of purpose that was normally lost on such animals.

He could barely hear over the rattle of the machine guns as he let loose once more, only to find that he was empty. He ejected the clip and installed another one with ease, then continued to fire. That moment, however, had been enough for one of the hounds to slip past the barrage of fire and leap over the wall, clearing Xander's fire as it did so. Immediately, three soldiers, Xander included, turned and sprayed fire into the creature, sending it down.

One soldier, however, was taken down a moment later as another hound leapt over the barricade, sinking its fangs into his throat and biting down, enjoying the gushing blood.

That one moment was all it took for their defenses to be overrun and for the hounds to come over the wall.

ҲҲҲ

Amy shot another hound in the head, then effortlessly turned on her heel and imbedded her blade into another's skull. The hounds had singled her out, recognizing the threat that she posed to them, and were slowly herding her away from the main grouping of soldiers. She did not notice, however, as she was lost in the battle.

As she chopped down another hound, however, she finally took a moment to examine her surroundings. The nearest soldier was a good 40 yards from her, whereas there were seven hounds surrounding her, circling her, savoring her scent before they would charge her.

Amy silently berated herself, but sighed and hefted up her weapons, prepared to make these sons of bitches sing for their supper.

As one, the hounds leapt at her…only to run into a wall of fire and burn.

"What," Amy asked.

She felt someone land near her and turned to confront them. She was happily surprised to see that it was Tara, looking a little worn out but with no visible marks on her.

"Watch yourself, Amy," Tara said with a small smile, "Don't let yourself get caught like that again."

"…Yes, ma'am," Amy said, very turned on by both the rescue and the battle.

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment before Tara's eyes abruptly shot up. She flung her arm into the sky, letting loose a wave of magical power as the bats came down upon them.

ҲҲҲ

Rachel Roth stared into the sky with a determined look on her pale face. Rachel, known to some as 'Raven' due to her mysterious and dark nature, flew into the sky along with the other magic users. Her brand of magic was unique to this world. It was a combination of empathy and soul-magic, very rare to this world. It required constant control of her emotions, an act which took a lot of strength from her soul to handle.

She flung a bolt of power at one of the bats, destroying it with a single blow. Another one came at her, its fangs watering at the possibility of having her as food. She sent another burst of energy into it, slicing it into death.

As she did so, however, she did not notice the bat come up behind her, a hungry look in its eyes as it realized that the Raven was completely unaware of its presence. Little did it know, however, that a crow was flying near. The bat lunged for the witch, but the crow flew into it, slashing and biting into the bat's eyes with a savagery that went completely against the nature of a crow.

Raven turned around as she heard the bat shriek in pain, and saw the crow that had attacked the bat fly away. Raven let loose with a blast of her power, sending the bat to the ground below. She took a moment to thank God for the crow that had saved her life.

"You might wanna be careful out there, little lady," a voice to her left called out, "There's tricky shit afoot."

Raven turned in midair to look at the person who had called out to her. It was that Flagg man, the one whom Tara had said had appeared in the hospital. He was standing, literally standing, in mid-air, with a pleasant grin on his face…and crows feathers fluttering all around him.

"…That was you," Rachel asked, confused but happy for the help.

"Well, I don't like to brag," Flagg said with a sheepish grin, "Just thought you could use a helping hand."

Flagg saluted to her, then turned on his heel and began to walk away from her. She thought for a moment that he was pulling off a trick with his magic, but then she realized that she could actually hear the click of his cowboy boots as he walked along the sky.

"Oh, how silly of me," Flagg said as he slapped his head and turned back to her, "I just wanted to let you know…don't worry about your father, Trigon. He won't get to you."

Raven felt herself go pale as she realized what he meant. He knew…he knew, and now she would be forced to run again.

"Now, don't you go worrying like I said not to," Flagg said, smiling at her, "Trigon's small beans, dear. He'll get his if he dares try to use you to come to this world."

The way this man spoke about her father…with such condescending tones, such cockiness…as though Trigon, whose name was feared in multiple dimensions throughout the Multiverse, was less than a piece of shit to this man…

Frankly, she found it comforting…as well as disturbing.

ҲҲҲ

Elliot sank down to her knees as she ripped the soldier away from his comrades so that she could work on him. He was heavily bleeding from the wound on his arm, but she was more concerned about the poison that was surely running through his system. She quickly reached into her pack and withdrew the injector, then slammed it down into his vein, knowing that that would provide quick passage into his bloodstream. She then went to work on stopping the flow of blood from his arm.

She checked him over and found that his pulse was erratic and his breathing was shallow, but otherwise he seemed as though he would survive. As she continued bandaging him up, she took a moment to notice the battle.

All around her, dead bodies were piled up. The bats and the hellhounds were, thankfully, the majority of them. The battle was turning around now, in their favor, and it seemed as though they would win.

Elliot felt the soldier start to shake in her arms. She felt for his pulse and found it to be speeding up, which could have been due to the poison or the antivenom…then, she felt his heart stop.

She quickly ripped off his shirt and prepared to do CPR, knowing full-well that it would not help him at this point, but she would be damned if she didn't try.

ҲҲҲ

Dave moved quickly as he ran away from the Hellhound that was pursuing him. He had separated from his unit and had found this hound, which now wanted to make him his meal. He knew that he had to get to his fellow soldiers soon, or else this creature would kill him.

As he ran, though, he did not notice the man above him, watching him move with worry.

Dave took another corner, only to find himself inside of a dead end. He turned as he heard the Hellhound come in after him, pausing to sniff at him, enjoying the knowledge that it had cornered its prey.

"Come on," Dave whispered, "Just a little closer."

The hound backed up, preparing for a strike that would surely kill him.

"GERONIMO," he heard all of a sudden, and he looked up as someone leapt down the hill and into the hellhound. The big man wrestled with the hound for a moment before suddenly overpowering it and stabbing it repeatedly with…a wrench?!

"NO, GOD DAMN IT," Dave shouted.

The man stabbed the creature a few more times, then stepped back from it. He smiled to himself, obviously pleased as Dave came towards him.

"You were lucky I was here, man," the big man said, and Dave could see that the weapon in his hand was some kind of combination of a knife and a wrench, "This little baby would've skewered you."

Dave said nothing as he came up to him, instead, he pulled his arm back and threw a hard right into the man's stomach, driving him to his knee.

"OW," the big man said, looking up at him, "What the Hell, man? I did you a favor?!"

"No, dumbass, you fucked up our operation," the big man heard behind Dave as several soldiers came out of hiding, "We need one alive so we can produce more anti-venom, and now thanks to you, we gotta go and get another one."

"What the fuck are you doing out here, anyway," Dave demanded, pissed off with the man, "Shouldn't you just be with your unit?!"

"I don't have a unit," the man told them angrily, "They said I couldn't contribute."

"What's your name, asshole," another soldier demanded.

"…Everyone calls me Janitor," the big man said as he came to his feet, an angry look on his face.

Without saying a word, Janitor took off up the hill, leaving the soldiers to their disgust and work.

ҲҲҲ

Xander sighed to himself as he sat outside the hospital room, where about 25 men he had fought with were lying in agony as the venom worked its way through their systems. This area had about 5,000 combat troops, with each of them on hand for the battle…only 39 of them were injured…with about 200 dead.

All in all, only light casualties…but, as one soldier grimly predicted, this was just the first wave of Adam's latest attack.

Dave, the soldier he had been with, was inside there with another soldier, helping out as much as he could. Flagg was off somewhere with the mages, doing God only knew what. The Slayer, Amy, was still out in the field with around 50 soldiers doing a search of the perimeter for any leftover hounds or bats.

As he waited, he saw someone come outside of the hospital ER, dressed in scrubs and a mask. Sighing, she took off the mask and took a deep breath. Xander stared at her for a moment, recognizing her as one of the doctors that had first had him locked up. Suddenly, she began to break down, crying softly to herself as she slowly sank to the floor. Xander, being Xander, did the only thing he could: he walked up to her and softly put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," Xander whispered to her, "It's alright."

"No, it's not," she said vehemently, "None of this goddamned shit is right."

Xander couldn't say anything to that, because as far as he was concerned, she was right. So, instead, he wrapped his arms around her, and she sank into him, grateful for any amount of human contact in these terrible times.


	8. Coercion

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Rachel Roth stared out at the stars with small tears in her eyes. It had been such a long day for her and the rest of the mages. While out of all of them, they had had only one casualty, and the humans suffered more than she liked to admit. They had the unenviable task of burying the dead, as for them it took moments whereas it took hours for the normal people.

Even though they had pledged their allegiance to the cause, she could not help but feel the distrust, the hate, and the fear radiating off of them. They were not allies, not really. They were merely means to an end, an end to Adam…and that was an end everyone could get behind.

"It's not right," she heard behind her, and she turned to see Flagg come up, a sad look upon his face, "They hate you, and you help them so much."

"It's human nature," she said, feigning disinterest, "And how do you know that?"

"It doesn't take empathy to sense what they feel," Flagg said, "And even though I have it, I'd know it just from the looks they send your way. And they don't even know your true nature."

"How do you know of it," Raven asked, suspicion in her voice.

Flagg reached up and gently brushed the gem upon her forehead, and the sensation both burned and pleased Rachel.

"I've spent most of my long life studying magic," Flagg whispered to her with a grin, "I've forgotten more than you'll ever know."

"…Some say that you're the Messiah," Raven said, "Come to save the world from Adam."

"Perhaps from Adam," Flagg said with a wide grin, "Or perhaps from Adam…and those who made him."

"We all had a hand in making him," Raven said, "Or at least those of us who paid taxes…back when there were taxes."

"True," Flagg said, "But it was men like your general who designed him, men like your Dr. Cox who built him. Those people are to blame, aren't they? You, though…you and yours had no part in it. I think you all are the only true innocents in this camp. Or, at least, the only guiltless party.

"And, yet, it's them that don't trust you. In what world is that right?"

Rachel could say nothing to him. Flagg smiled one last smile at her, then moved on.

ҲҲҲ

Janitor sighed to himself as he went back to work on his machine. He was currently working on attaching a series of blades to the side of an ATV, which he had already attached an M-16 to. He was nearing completion on it, since he was not allowed to fight or work in the hospital.

After the war had broken out, Janitor had found himself with no livelihood at all. While beforehand he had had J.D. to torture, blonde doctor to fantasize about, and the rest to interact with as he chose, now J.D. was dead (a fact which he had mixed feelings about) and neither blonde doctor nor Cox had the time for him.

After first being considered for the armed forces, after Cox had told them about his actions at Sacred Heart, they had considered him unfit for service. Cox had, at first, allowed him to clean in the hospital as he had done before, but after he'd been found playing with the heart-electrocutioner-thingy, they'd refused him entry, which was a real drag cause he liked playing with the equipment.

So, he'd spent most of his time since then working on the things his mind had come up with. The rest of the time, he'd helped out in battles till the soldiers found him, or he'd gone out into the world and done what he'd always wanted to do (like punching a whale, which he'd finally done in 2005). Lately, though, with the war taking a bad turn, he got the feeling that his days of sitting on the sidelines were coming to an end.

"My, my, my," he heard a voice to his left say, "What a fascinating device."

Janitor looked over at the man dressed in jeans from head-to-toe as he squatted down to inspect his ATV.

"Well, thank you," Janitor said, pride in his voice as someone recognized the value of his work, "I call it the ATV of Doom!"

The man laughed happily at that and said, "That's a fitting name for such an instrument of death."

Janitor smiled, finding himself liking this man.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm being quite rude," the man said, "Pleased to meet you, Neil," Janitor gawked at him, stunned that he knew his real name, "Hope you guess my name."

"…Satan," Janitor guessed.

The man laughed with such force that Janitor was honestly scared for a moment. The man laughed long and hard, so long that Janitor was honestly wondering whether he should go get a doctor (blonde doctor, perhaps) for him. Then, the man suddenly stopped, turning to him with a friendly smile.

"I'm Randall Flagg," the man said, extending his hand to him, "You and me, Neil…we're gonna be good friends."

"Sure we are," Janitor said with a bit of nervousness.

"Now," Flagg leaned in very close and said, "Why don't you show me the rest of your workshop?"

"…Really," Janitor asked, surprised, "You wanna see what else I've made."

"Oh, yessir, I do," Flagg said with a laugh, "C'mon, boy, show me what you got."

Janitor felt a swelling of…happiness (it took him a moment to define what it was) inside of him, happiness and pride as well. For the first time, ever, someone was taking an interest in his work. It felt…nice.

"Alright, then," Janitor said, leaping up to his feet, "Wait'll I show you my squirrel army!"

"Squirrel army," Flagg asked, curious, "Those little critters could take down a naval base, if there were any still standing."

Janitor laughed at that.

ҲҲҲ

Heaven…

Cordelia watched with a frown as she saw Walter doing exactly what she was afraid he would do. Already, that malevolent bastard was building up forces to oppose those that she was sure Xander would stand with. There was a voice in the back of her mind, though, wondering whether or not Xander would be able to see Flagg for the danger he was. She knew that Xander did not fear him, but she also knew that he believed him to be, while no good man, a decent man. Oh, how wrong he was.

"See it's not working out all as well as you'd like," she sighed as Metatron came up to her side.

"It's just starting," Cordelia retorted, "I don't even think we have all the key players in yet."

"Well, Buffy," Metatron blanched at the name, "Will have to die eventually. Faith is still in that world, but she's been given a job to do and she will do it."

"What's her job," Cordelia asked.

"Protect the Key," Metatron said casually, "Dawn is with her, and she's Faith's sister in this world."

"She still has to protect her," Cordelia asked, "The time's already passed for Glory to go home in this world."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that Glorificus doesn't want to kill her, nor that her status as the Key is revoked," Metatron said, and Cordelia had to concede the point, "What bothers me is that Flagg's already got his hands around Ms. Roth down there. You know who she is."

"Trigon's daughter," Cordelia said sadly, "It's too bad she's the only one from that world that isn't a comic character. She'll fall victim to Flagg's games unless someone does something."

"And that Neil Flynn character, what a mind," Metatron said sadly, "Failed actor, but with an inventive spirit. Flagg's already got him ready."

"What do you think his next move is," Cordelia asked.

"I have ideas, but nothing solid," Metatron said, "She won't tell me anything, either, and I'm real curious as to how this is going to play out."

"…Is there anything that we can do," Cordelia asked.

"No," Metatron said firmly, "She has decreed that no more interference in the natural progression of this world can continue. We may well have damned it by causing Flagg and Xander to run into each other."

"I think he will surprise you," Cordelia said with confidence and worry.

"Perhaps," Metatron said, though the doubt was evident in his voice, "But first he must realize what it means to have escaped from Hell…the benefits and the prices that come with that."


	9. Coffee

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Elliot nodded in thanks as the strange man sat down in front of her, handing her a cup of coffee (_Shit-achino_) as he did so. He was a tall man, around her age, dressed in camouflage just as everyone else. There was something about his eyes, though, that made her want to cry each and every time she looked into them. She'd seen similar eyes before, from the few people that they'd ever successfully rescued from Adam's camps of workers…but his were so much worse.

"You alright," the man asked, snapping his fingers to get her attention.

"Oh, sorry," Elliot said, coming out of it, "I got lost for a moment, there."

"It's ok," he said with a lopsided grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, "I know how it can be."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name when you…dropped in," she finished with a small smile.

"Well, that's one way of putting it," he said with a chuckle, "I don't imagine you get many people just appearing inside your hospital outta thin air."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Elliot said, laughing slightly as she said this, "This one dude just appeared outta nowhere once to drop off a soldier, he wound up getting stuck with a needle in the leg because one of the rookies had dropped it."

The man laughed heartily at that.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that," he said, "We didn't mean any trouble. And I'm Xander," he extended his hand.

"Elliot," she said, taking his hand in her own, smiling as she did so, "No trouble at all. We're glad to have you both. You and Flagg were both a lot of help."

"Well, I'm sure he was," Xander said with a shy smile, "All I did was shoot Hellhounds, he probably took to the air and just kicked the crap outta those bats."

"…There's been some rumors going around," Elliot started, leaning in to speak to him quietly, "Rumors about him being…the Second Coming."

Xander stared at her for a long moment, then started to laugh a laugh that she had not heard in a long time: the laugh of a man who'd found something incredibly ridiculous.

"Flagg," Xander said as he started to come down, "Flagg is not the Second Coming, he's probably not even the First Coming."

"That's what people are saying," Elliot said, taken aback by his response, "They saw him up there, in the air…walking."

"And he's made me appear and reappear in completely different places with the same amount of effort it takes me to blink," Xander responded with a small smile, "All that means is that he has power."

"Maybe," Elliot said with a small frown, "I dunno, though, maybe it's just me, but I'd really…really like for him to be the Second Coming. I mean, what else can possibly defeat Adam?"

"We can," Elliot and Xander looked up as they were joined by two redheads, both sitting down with trays of rations that they'd gotten from the chow hall.

"Dave," Xander greeted the solider that he had fought with, "How's it going, man?"

"It's going," Dave said with a small grin as he opened up his rations and began to eat, "We had a good one out there today. We kicked ass, man!"

"Anyone up for this," the other redhead, a girl, said as she pulled out a flask.

"I'll take some," Xander said, and she handed it over and he took a swig, "Woo, that's some shitty whiskey."

"It's all I could find," the girl said with a glare, "And it's better than nothing."

"You're right, you're right," Xander agreed with a grin, "I didn't mean anything by it, it just surprised me is all."

"…Alright," she said with a grin, sticking out her hand, "Friends."

"Friends," Xander said, shaking her hand, "I'm Xander."

"Amy," the redhead replied.

"You're the Slayer, right," Elliot asked, a curious look in her eye.

"Yep, that'd be me," Amy said with a sarcastic grin, "The one girl in all the world."

"That's a load of horseshit, y'know," Xander said with a serious look, "I've known three Slayers in my time, and each and every one of them kicked ass, but they never really got it through their heads that they're not alone. Just remember that, always remember that you're not alone."

"…You wanna smoke a joint with me," Amy asked, choked with emotion as she said this.

"Maybe later," Xander said with a laugh.

ҲҲҲ

Flagg sat in the middle of the sky, Indian style, as he meditated. Directly below him was a city, buried underneath the desert. It was there long before civilization itself began, back when the Hellmouths were opened for all to enter and leave as they pleased, say thankee. Back when the likes of Illyria and Trigon ruled this world…the truth demons.

He sat in thought as he exuded his mind to penetrate the barrier that held between the two worlds. Astral projection was not a skill of his, but he could do it in a pinch.

Finally, after one final burst of power, he felt the barrier give just enough to let him slink through. He could not stay long, however, for he could already feel the barrier begin to heal itself. He had to be quick.

Around his was darkness…nothing but darkness. And two red, glowing eyes.

"WHO DARES DISTURB MY-" the voice of Trigon began.

"Yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah-blah," Flagg interrupted him, magicking up a fake carrot to chew as he did so, "What's up, doc?"

"…WALTER PADICK," Trigon said with a maliciousness that actually frightened Randall, "YOU SHALL PAY FOR YOUR IMPUDENCE."

"Yeah, right, whatever," Flagg replied with a grin, "Listen up, Trikie, I need you to do me a solid…I need you to hold off on using your daughter to try and penetrate this world."

"MY DAUGHTER IS THE ONLY KEY THAT I HAVE TO ANY WORLD, PADICK," Trigon raged at him, "DO NOT TEST ME ANY FURTHER, WIZARD, OR I SHALL SHOW YOU THE PRICE OF YOUR ARROGANCE."

"Listen, I don't see what the big deal is," Flagg said, his arms out in exasperation, "It's just one little world, it won't even matter when your day comes somewhere else! You're Trigon the Terrible, you've got, like, a billion Ravens out there to pick from, each of them from your own seed, do you really have to use this one? And why would you wanna? This world's already being torn apart by the humans waging war against Adam-" Flagg would've continued, had he not been interrupted.

"CEASE YOUR PRATTLE," Trigon spoke, only this time with an edge of…humor in his voice, "YOU SPEAK OF THE WORLD THAT THE HARRIS CHILD HAS BEEN SENT TO."

"Yes," Flagg said with urgency, "What do you know of him?!"

Trigon chuckled, a truly frightening sound, and said, "HE WAS MY FAVORITE TOY WHEN HE WAS IN HELL. IT IS A SHAME THAT god DECIDED TO GRANT HIM CLEMENCY."

"Clemency," Flagg muttered to himself.

"KNOW THIS, PADICK," Trigon continued, "I AM COMING TO YOUR WORLD, AND THERE IS NOTH-" abruptly, the demon paused, and Flagg could sense that he had made some connection that had not been there before, "THIS WORLD YOU SPEAK OF…IS THIS THE SAME WORLD IN WHICH MY DAUGHTER CHOSE TO JOIN FORCES WITH THE HUMANS TO FIGHT AGAINST THE ABOMINATION THEY CREATED?"

Flagg nodded.

"OH," Trigon said, now sounding oddly nervous and embarrassed, "WELL…THIS IS AWKWARD. I, ACTUALLY, WASN'T PLANNING ON USING MY DAUGHTER IN THAT WORLD."

"What," Flagg asked incredulously, "Why? Not that I'm complaining."

"WELL, TO BE PERFECTLY HONEST," Trigon started, more nervousness in his voice, "YOU SEE, THERE'S THIS HELL GODDESS, GLORIFICUS, THAT'S TRAPPED ON YOUR WORLD. SHE AND I KINDA…HAD A THING THAT WENT…YEAH."

"Women, man," Flagg said with a shake of the head, inwardly laughing his ass off at his luck, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…and a Hell Goddess has a fury that makes Hell piss itself."

Trigon groaned and said, "YEAH, SHE'S TRAPPED THERE, AND I'D REALLY RATHER NOT SEE HER AGAIN…EVER."

"Well, no problem, then," Flagg said with a big smile, "I'll just get outta your hair."

"PADICK," Trigon stopped him, "BEFORE YOU GO, THERE'S JUST ONE THING…GLORIFICUS IS TRYING TO GET BACK INTO HELL…JUST TO KICK MY ASS. SO, UM, IF YOU COULD MAKE SURE THAT SHE DOESN'T SUCCEED…THAT'D BE GREAT."

"Sure, no problem," Flagg said with a grin, "I assume she's using her Key," he could feel Trigon's nod, "How? Hasn't the Key negated itself?"

"NO," Trigon said, "THE KEY HAS LOST NONE OF ITS POTENCY…AND THERE IS STILL THE HELLMOUTH."

"Ah," Flagg said, fully understanding where Trigon was going with this, "Awesome. I'll get right on that."

"GOOD, GOOD," Trigon said, "AND TELL NO ONE OF WHAT WAS SAID HERE!!!!!….PLEASE."

"Will do," Flagg said, escaping through the rift as he did so.

Once he was back in his body, Flagg slowly opened his eyes. He took a deep, calming breath…then completely lost it and began to laugh his ass off. He fell almost 20,000 feet before he managed to stop himself, and even as he floated back down to the surface, many snickers and chuckles escaped him.


	10. Seek and Destroy

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Xander sat at the conference table, listening as Flagg explained what he had found during his excursion to the desert. He looked to his left at Dr. Cox, present as he was one of the heads of staff, specifically the Chief of Medicine for the CFZ. Giles was there as well, along with the White Witch, Tara. Amy was there, and she had smiled at him briefly while first entering the room. Elliot was there as well, having been sent to retrieve him on special request of Randall Flagg.

There were also several military officials present, none of whom he recognized, but he could tell that they were real bigwigs here. One in particular, a General Neusom, was stuck between glaring at Tara, Flagg, and Amy and gawking at Flagg as he spoke. Some present were mages as well, but unlike the military men, they were staring at Flagg with a mixture of curiosity and…admiration.

It did not escape Xander that Flagg had been able to easily gain permission to see the entire Free Zone staff, and he apparently had enough clout with them to request that he, a civilian still under suspicion, be present. Along with the rumors present of his being Messiah, the Second Coming, Xander found himself very worried about what Flagg was up to.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Flagg said with his normal grin, moving about in a semi-theatrical fashion, "While I was out in the desert, attempting to gain contact with the universe to see what could be done about Adam, a new threat entered my field of vision. This threat is called Glorificus."

Giles audibly gasped at that and immediately went to clean his glasses.

"I see our favored Watcher has heard of the Goddess," Flagg suggested with a chuckle.

"…Indeed, I have," Giles said, glaring momentarily at Flagg, "Glorificus is a Hell Goddess, one of the most powerful ones at that. She was banished from Hell for some unknown offense against Satan," Flagg chuckled for a moment, then waved his hand, egging him on, "There is a trans-dimensional key, though, one with enough power to send her back to Hell to exact her revenge. But the time of its use has long since come and gone, I doubt she'll be much threat to us."

"Glorificus," Flagg said, continuing on from what Giles had said, "Is a threat to us because the Key remains useful. While after that point in time the Key became useless to open ALL dimensional portals, it remains valuable still as it can be used to open ONE dimensional portal."

"You mean," Xander said, "The Hellmouth?"

"Right in one," Flagg said with a happy smile, "The Key can be used to open the Hellmouth, and once that Hellmouth is opened, it shall continue to pour energy into it, increasing the size of the portal till eventually the Hellmouth shall consume the entire planet."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this bullshit," Xander heard one of the military men whisper.

"Believe it, sir," apparently, Flagg did as well, as he responded to the man's whispers with a dark smile, "If Glorificus succeeds, it's" he clapped his hands together, earning a shudder from all but himself and Tara inside the room, "Game over, man. For both us and Adam."

"…What are you suggesting," the General asked, a cold calculating look in his eye.

"I suggest," Flagg smiled, "That we gather up a search party to find the Key and bring it somewhere where she will find it…then, we kill her."

"Sounds reasonable enough," the General said with a small frown, "How large a force should it take to destroy a…a Hell Goddess? Perhaps a platoon of troops and the Slayer?"

Amy glared at being referred to as the Slayer, as a tool, but the General paid her no mind.

"Oh, my, Heaven's no," Flagg said in shock, "They'd all be killed. It would take an army of men just to scratch her."

"…So what are you suggesting we do about it," Giles asked as the General went into meltdown at that information.

"I suggest," Flagg took a deep breath, seemingly readying himself, "We take this information to Adam and compose a temporary truce."

"OUT OF THE QUESTION," the General immediately roared, with his inferiors supporting him.

"Hear him out," one of the mages, a pale girl with a gem on her forehead dressed in black robes, demanded, "Flagg has been nothing but a blessing to us. The least you could do is give him a chance!"

Xander, for one, found anyone calling Flagg a blessing a mixture of comical and downright scary. But, he reminded himself that he very well did owe the man his own life. So he could understand the sentiments.

"My suggestion is," Flagg continued on, sending a nod of thanks to the pale girl as he did so, "That we take this information to Adam and propose an alliance, and that we lure Glorificus to the Hellmouth, where Adam and his demonoids will dispose of her…meanwhile, he shall have to lower his shields to let her in. When he does so, we shall spring up from the ground and invade the Hellmouth. With the mass confusion of Glorificus and our forces invading and pillaging as we would, a detachment of mages, perhaps led by myself," he flashed them a satisfied smile, "Shall go and release the mages being held to fuel his shield, and then the full-force of our army shall enter and destroy Adam, once and for all. His remaining forces will be easy to pick off without their 'benevolent' leader, scattered to the wind in mass confusion."

Xander took a moment to notice the looks on everyone in the room. Giles himself looked thoroughly flustered, considering the plan as he did so. The mages, Tara including, looked hopeful at the prospect of freeing their brethren. The soldiers…looked like Christmas had come early.

Only Dr. Cox and Amy did not look eager to engage in this plan. They, like him, felt there was something off about it.

"So," Dr. Cox said, drawing attention to himself, "What you're saying is that we get Adam to agree to draw a Hell Goddess to his base of operations, forcing him to bring down his shield as he does so…and we're just expecting him to conveniently forget that we are fighting a war with him and will most likely be doing this very thing?"

"No, we're not," Flagg said, his grin still present, "Odds are he will think of this, but will see it as a perfect opportunity to annihilate a large amount of our forces, which it is. I'm not saying there aren't risks, what I'm saying is that the opportunity will be too great for him to ignore. It's entirely possible that this will turn against us and that we could all be incredibly screwed due to it, but it's a risk worth the opportunity of destroying Adam. And once we release all the mages, they will undoubtedly choose to join the fight against Adam."

"At the very least," the pale girl said, "We can free the mages and bring down his shields for a future attack."

"…We shall take it to the leaders in the other Free Zones," the General said with a note of authority, "Should they agree, then we shall take your suggestion and enable it as we see fit."

"Of course," Flagg said graciously, bowing with a smile.

"…Thank you, Mr. Flagg," the General said, though it sounded oddly genuine and forced.

"My pleasure, General," Flagg said with that same dark grin, "My pleasure."

ҲҲҲ

Xander stared off into space after the meeting, pondering. Everything about this just seemed too good to be true…but it felt true, as though Flagg had stumbled upon the very thing to save the world…like a true Messiah would.

Yet, Xander doubted very much that Jesus Christ would come up with war strategies.

"You doubt him," he turned to look up and saw that pale girl standing near him, a neutral look on her face.

"Not really," Xander said truthfully, "I think his plan will work. I just don't think it will work the way Flagg says it will."

"Maybe," the girl agreed, though it was obvious that her faith in the man was unshakeable at the moment, "But I believe in him. He is the Messiah, after all."

She had always believed in God. After all, her father was the embodiment of evil for many worlds in the Multiverse, not just her own. Balance was one of the key things in the entire worlds…and if her father existed, then a being of good must exist.

And, if said being of good did exist, then it was inconceivable at all to her that Flagg was His emissary, the savior, the Messiah…at least she hoped he was.

"…Perhaps," Xander said with doubt, "I'm sorry, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Xander, Xander Harris."

She took his hand and said, "Rachel Roth."

That name struck a cord with Xander…it was as though he had heard it before…but he simply could not place it.

"And what, may I ask, has you so convinced that he _is_ Messiah," Xander asked, a curious look on his face.

"He is a nineteen," Rachel said with certainty, "He has power the likes of which have never been felt on this world. And we felt him…we felt him come into this world."

"You felt him," Xander asked, concerned now.

"Yes," Rachel confirmed, "It was like…like a shiver of something so powerful that it made me quake with fear. It felt as though something had torn open the universe and stepped thru…then, a short while later, I felt the same thing…only, this time, there was an…intense heat that came with it, like a fever. And it felt…evil. Like pure evil."

Xander looked down at the ground. She spoke of Flagg's arrival to this world…followed by his own…from Hell. And she'd felt it.

And if she felt it…then that meant that, perhaps, every mage had felt it.


	11. Palaver

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Randall Flagg sat in thought in his assigned room. Things were going along swimmingly for him. The General and his men would be leaving in two days time to converse with other members of the Free Zones about his notion (and he felt sure that he would gain their blessings).

Raven was very devoted to him already. She felt the power in him, and thanks to his own mental shielding, she could not use her empathy on him to discern his thoughts nor his feelings. He still had not figured out what he was going to say to her about her father, for simply telling her that he had decided not to use her would not fly well. He felt, however, that the answer would come to him in time.

Janitor and he had talked for well over two hours that first time they'd met. Janitor was an interesting fellow, considered insane by many of his peers. The man, in point of fact, was a genius with a gift of inventiveness combined with his imagination. He loved to build things, random as they were. He could be very useful to the CFZ…if they'd merely use him. But they weren't for fear of what his unstable mind could produce, perhaps rightly so. But Flagg had dealt with the insane before, and had used them to his advantage. Janitor, while gifted, was not disturbed, not really, merely lonely and bored. Those two things could drive a man to do very disturbing things.

He frowned to himself as he considered the other elements to his plot. Xander was on the fence with him, he could tell, though he could not discern more than that. Flagg found that pretty ungrateful of him, as Flagg had saved his life. Giles and Tara were firmly against him, he could tell, but Tara was willing to enact his plan in the interest of saving her brethren. Amy and Dave had to go, that much Flagg was certain of. They were both potheads, disgusting creatures that Flagg had neither the time nor the patience for.

Now, in this world, most people held a general distrust of the ones who used magic, including himself in spite of the word going around that he was Messiah. He would have to capitalize on that, drive a wedge between the two groups to further his plans. The problem was that there was only so much he could do before the humans to make mages seem evil without the mages turning against him. He needed someone…someone who could attack the humans in ways that could not be linked back to him.

Sighing, he reached out with his mind, scanning as far as he could to try and find that which he was looking for. As he stretched his limits, he could feel something at the very edge of his mind. It wasn't quite real, it was on the mental level…but it was causing distress…and death where it was.

His search was interrupted by someone knocking on his door, drawing his attention away from the thing that he had found.

"Hey, Randy," Flagg frowned momentarily at that, but chose to put it aside as he came to his feet to answer the door, "You in?"

"Hang on, kid," Flagg said, grabbing his shirt and tossing it on as he answered the door, "Let a man get clothed, will ya?"

"Sorry," Xander said with an embarrassed smile as Flagg opened the door.

"Not a problem," Flagg said with a smile, "Come on in, Xander. Come on in and we'll palaver some."

"…Palaver," Xander asked as he walked into Flagg's sparse room.

"Sorry, slang from one of my prior homes," Flagg said with a grin, "We'll talk for a bit. Please, sit down. Drink?"

"Whiskey, if you have it," Xander said with a grin.

"Ah, a man's drink," Flagg said with a grin, and he conjured up some whiskey and poured it in two shot glasses, "To your health, Xander."

"And to yours, Messiah," Xander said, and Flagg laughed as they clanked their glasses together and threw back their drinks.

"So, I take it that's why you're here," Flagg said with a sigh as they sat down, the bottle between them, "You're curious about the rumors."

"Very much so," Xander said, pouring himself another round as he did so, "They're all talking about how you're the Second Coming of Christ."

"And what do you think," Flagg asked, wondering if he could discern his young friend's mindset.

"I dunno," Xander said, sipping his drink, "I don't think you're the Christ. I don't deny that you have power, but I just don't see you as the divine."

"Well, that doesn't surprise me, Xander," Flagg said with a grin, "See, what I am is not important. It's what my purpose is that matters."

"And what is your purpose," Xander asked with a small grin.

"To save the world," Flagg said, smiling widely as he said this, "What I am, Xander, is purpose. I know what my purpose is, what my place is in this world…and it is to save it and show it the way. Call me Messiah, Lord, Savior, Vishnu, Satan, Legion, call me what you will, but I amount to the same thing: purpose."

"When we first met, you didn't seem that interested in saving the world," Xander noted.

"Perhaps, perhaps," Flagg said with a sad smile, "I'm disappointed in this world. They created their own destruction, and thanks to that, their world is moving on much more quickly than it should have. The only truly innocent party, I feel, are the mages. They had nothing to do with Adam, nor with the science that made him. They are not responsible for this world's descent."

Xander sat in thought for a moment, then nodded, somewhat seeing where he was coming from.

"I fear for their safety," Flagg said with a frown, "For all their power, they could not hold against the humans, not as they are…divided."

"Why would they need to," Xander asked.

"C'mon, kid," Flagg said with a laugh, "Wise up, brother. The humans hate the mages. They associate them with Adam because they're not normal. And because of that, they're driving a huge wedge between themselves and the mages. Eventually…the two will break."

Xander took a moment to take that in. Sadly, what Flagg was saying made sense…it was entirely possible that after the war with Adam was through, a civil war between the mages and the humans could break out…and that could possibly spell the end of both.

As he went to say something, though, the wall ripped itself open with holes as led rained down upon them. Flagg shouted as he grabbed Xander and tossed him down behind the bed. Xander groaned out in pain as a white-hot sensation hit him in his side, nearly at his lung. He could feel the blood trickling down his stomach as the bullet came to a stop at his bone.

Suddenly, two men entered the room, both dressed in black with turbans on, covering their faces. They both had on crucifixes all over their bodies and both were holding bibles and AK-47s in their hands.

"Back, unholy thing," one of them shouted, "False prophet! Anti-Christ!!"

They both shoved their bibles into both his and Flagg's face. Flagg stared at the book for a moment, then proceeded to laugh his ass off at them.

Xander, on the other hand, saw the bible in their hands…and felt a burning sensation strike his face and skin full-force. He winced as the holy force struck him, and he recoiled in pain. He withdrew further into the crevice he was in, letting Flagg stand up over him. He felt like a coward, but he could not bring himself up against them.

"False prophet," Flagg asked with a laugh, "I think you'd best rethink those words, son."

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son to save us all," one of them shouted, "You shall not sully His Holy Name with your…your lies!!!"

Flagg stared at them, his smile having evaporated into the air, to be replaced with a frown. The men recoiled at the sheer anger that was radiating off of him, only to regrip their bibles and retake their stances.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," the two men said, very off from each other, "We implore You, Gentle Jesus…take this unholy thing from our sight!"

Xander screamed in pain and rage as the burning sensation built up anew. Holiness was something like a generator. Most of the time, it was absent save in places where it would build up over time, such as in a church or some other place of worship. In the face of two people who had such blinding faith to their higher power, though…to a demon, it could be enough to stop them from attacking them…particularly a new one.

To Xander, at that moment, it felt like the entire world had temporarily lit on fire. It was nothing like Hell, though…it felt…good…but horribly bad at the same time.

Flagg, meanwhile, had had enough of them. Moving with a speed that one would find unnatural for a man of his build, he crossed the room and drove both his fists into the two men's foreheads, easily knocking them out. He took their weapons and broke them down with an expert hand, tossing them away as he did so.

Sighing, Flagg turned back to his friend and looked down on him with a sad smile.

Xander stared up at him, momentarily seeing his eyes turn red, only for them to return to normal a half-second later.

"Well," Flagg said with that same semi-sad smile, "Look like Hell gave you something to remember it by."

"Yeah, guess it did," Xander said, a small tear running down his face.

"Show me your wound," Flagg said, kneeling down beside him as he did so.

Xander gritted his teeth as he moved to show Flagg where he had been hit. As he did so, the door burst open as MPs poured in. They shouted for Flagg to get down, but Flagg paid them no mind as he ripped away bits of Xander's shirt from the wound. He gently laid his hand over it, then closed his eyes and began to focus.

"GET DOWN ON THE FUCKING GROUND," one of the MPs shouted, "GET DOWN OR WE WILL FIRE ON YOU!!!"

From his angle, the MP could not see what Flagg was doing, and likely would not care either way. To him, all mages, especially Flagg, were freaks who deserved to be shot along with Adam.

Flagg continued to ignore him as he poured his energy into Xander. The wound around his hands began to glow white, and Xander cried out as his wound was healed.

"TAKE 'EM OUT," the MP shouted, and all the men opened fire on them.

The bullets could not even hit them. They were stopped by an invisible wall that held them suspended in midair.

"Christ," another MP whispered.

"Not quite right," Flagg said as he came to his feet and turned to them, a satisfied smile on his face, "But close enough."

He extended his hands and the MPs parted involuntarily for him. Flagg walked outside his room as the paramedics, led by Elliot, came in.

"No fatalities, and those two men are responsible for this," Flagg said to her as he walked on.

Elliot stared at him for a moment before nodding and moving into the room.


	12. Nothing Else Matters

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

"How is he," Giles asked as he walked up to the infirmary, with the Slayer Amy and David, an MP, trailing behind him.

Dr. Cox put down his chart for a moment, a scowl entering his features as he considered his answer.

"Medically, the patient is fine," Perry explained, "The bullet wound was healed and sealed with an efficiency that is normally only found in fully trained mages. He should make a full recovery. However, in other areas, I'm not as sure about his health."

"How do you mean," Giles asked, put off by the doctor's answer.

"Ever since he regained consciousness, he's refused medical attention and has rarely spoken to anyone aside from telling them to piss off," Perry replied, his tone hardening as he relayed just how well he'd taken that, "Several of my colleagues believe it's something like survivor's guilt or perhaps shock."

"But you don't," Amy said, a frown on her features.

"…I believe," Perry took a breath and touched his nose, "I believe Mr. Harris might be suffering from depression due to what happened."

"On what grounds do you base these beliefs," Giles demanded, fearing for the safety of his last remaining friend and ally from times past.

"His refusal to eat, denial of medical attention, his general disdain for human interaction," Perry recounted for them, "All classic signs of depression."

"…May we see him," Dave asked as both Giles and Amy took in what he had to say.

"I was about to suggest just that," Perry said, clapping his hands together, "Friends are the best thing at a time like this…least according to Barbie they are."

"Barbie," Dave asked, confused.

"Never you mind," Perry said, and he turned, whistling as he did so, "This way, boys and girls."

ҲҲҲ

Xander stared into the ceiling, doing nothing more but thinking to himself. He could not keep up with his own thoughts in that time. Not since his return from Hell had he been so…lost.

Elliot came up to him, carrying a tray of food for him to eat.

"Here you go," she set down the tray of food before him, not even drawing his gaze to her, "The very best food rations we could scrounge up for you." She put her hands behind her back and smiled at him, only to frown as he continued to stare up at the ceiling.

"Xander," Elliot broke protocol for a moment and pulled up a chair next to him, sitting down and taking his hand as she did so, "What happened in there?"

For a long time, Xander said nothing, he didn't even acknowledge her existence, merely stared up into the ceiling, as if he was searching for some lost meaning that he hadn't even known was there to begin with.

"Please," Elliot begged, wanting to help her friend as he had helped her, "Talk to me."

She stared into his face for a while, hoping against hope that he would turn his gaze to her. However, he merely continued to stare up. Always up.

Sighing, she released his hand and got up, placing a plastic fork into his food to allow him to eat whenever he got around to it. She wanted to stay and talk to him, to try and bring him back from wherever it was those two had sent him…but she had her responsibilities to tend to, and even though she had only known the man for a few days now, she felt quite sure that he would not want anyone to die because of him.

"Xander," she called as she came to the door, not turning back, "If you ever need anyone to talk to…I'm here."

Silence.

Sighing, Elliot walked on, or would have had a hoarse voice not called out to here.

"Elliot," she paused, turning around to face Xander, who was still staring up, but he said, "Thank you."

Smiling softly, she whispered, "No problem…be well."

ҲҲҲ

Xander stared up into Heaven…his hand rested on the tray in front of him, inches away from the living heat that was rising from the plastic.

Giles, Amy, and Dave had dropped in to visit him. They were all concerned for him, wondering what it was that had happened to make him so…well, depressed. After all, the man had escaped from Hell just recently, what was there to be depressed about? Surely even this world was better than Hell…

Xander took a breath in to steady himself, then reached out and attempted to grab the hot metal object on his table…only to withdraw his hand as the heat became too much. Sighing, he took his eyes away from the Heavens and looked down at the thing before him.

At the crucifix.

He held his hand up, staring at it in a mixture of surprise and contempt. His hand showed some signs of burning, as though he'd held his hand too close to a fire for too long a time. It was nothing serious, in point of fact it was already healing…but…there was something wrong with it all…aside from the fact that it was a holy object that was making him suffer.

Hell had lived up to its name quite well. The sheer fact that he was not insane was nothing more than a blessing to him, as he had honestly believed himself to have gone crazy while in that awful place. But…for him to learn that Heaven was his enemy now, due to him being there for so long…

He was being repelled by the holy objects left in the world…that meant…that when he died…he would have to go back to that place…

So, by being released for even a second, instead of being given his second chance, his freedom…he had simply entered an even darker and depressing Hell…the knowledge that no matter what he did, he would go back to…that…it was enough to bring him to tears.

"So close, no matter how far," he whispered as he got out of the bed, "Couldn't be much far from the heart."

He put his clothes on.

"Forever trusting who we are."

He opened the window and eased himself out of it, dropping down from the second story with ease.

"And nothing else matters."

He walked down the street, ignored as the troops, doctors, and mages moved on along their way. Slowly, he walked on, heading West…towards Adam…towards the hills of the desert…

Towards his Hell.

ҲҲҲ

Heaven…

"Oh Jesus," Cordelia whispered, "What's he doing?"

"He appears to have snapped," Metatron said sadly, shaking his head, "I knew nothing good would have come from this."

God slapped the back of his head, letting him know Her displeasure at his comment.

"Ow," Metatron complained, "I'm just sayin'."

God looked pointedly over at Cordelia, who was in tears. Sighing, highly displeased with his insensitivity, Metatron eased himself next to her and held her, and she wept into his suit.

God watched on with a heavy heart, knowing that he was going off to end his life, to end what he now considered to be the next stage of his punishment. He was being given a taste of life away from Hell, only to now be convinced that he would simply return there once he died. She knew otherwise, but he did not know that.

Sighing, God placed he hand on Metatron, and he looked up at Her as he continued to hold Cordelia.

"Are you sure," Metatron asked, and God nodded, letting him know Her will.

"…As you wish, Lord," Metatron whispered.


	13. Suicide and Redemption

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

"Alright, Barbie, go to the supply room and grab me up a couple of syringes, will ya," Perry asked as he examined the fanatic that had been arrested during the attempt on Flagg's life, "Lucky the bastard only got a concussion with Flagg there."

"You oughta be a little more accepting of him," Elliot said, trying to keep her tone casual, "They say he is the Messiah."

"Messiah my ass," Perry said, "Flagg's nothing more than a gimmicky mage who thinks his shit smells like sunshine and roses. 'Sides, God doesn't exist, and if He/She/It does, then whatever it is can kiss my perfectly shaped ass."

"I'm glad you can live your life that way," Elliot retorted with an angry look on her face, "But I sure as shit can't."

She turned to walk away, but Perry called out to her as she did so, making her stop.

"Since when did you become Laverne," Perry asked, a genuinely curious look on his face.

"…Since the world went to Hell," Elliot didn't turn as she answered, merely said her peace then walked on.

ҲҲҲ

Giles walked amongst his Counsel, if it could even be called that. He was having his team do extensive research on what was known about Hell, if only so that he could learn a little about what had happened to Xander so that he could find some way of helping him in his state of depression. He was fairly certain that his time in Hell had something to do with it, but what exactly it was, he could not even begin to say.

"Sir," he turned his head as an Englishman he had never seen before, roughly his own age, came up to him, holding a book that looked to be fairly old in his hand, "I just came across this and I thought you might want to take a look at it."

Even though Giles was fairly familiar with most of the members of his team, he was also aware that new members came nearly every day, as the number of former Watchers being found were still relatively high, as the organization itself had been very large. Putting that aside, the head Watcher took the book from his hand and looked down at its contents.

"Paragraph three," his fellow countryman informed him.

Giles read thru it quickly, trying to determine if the man had presented him anything relevant…then reread it again to make sure he understood what it was saying.

"My God," he whispered to himself, "This can't…it…"

"If this is true," Giles turned back to his countryman, who had a stern yet sad look on his face, "Then that poor boy is walking around with Hell itself inside of him."

"…They had Bibles," Giles whispered, "Thank you, but, I really must-"

"It's alright," the man said with a smile, "I just thought you might want to see that. Now go. Save him."

Giles nodded with a look of worry in his eye, turning away as he did so, not noticing the man disappear into thin air as he did so, not caring if he did.

ҲҲҲ

"Are you absolutely sure about this," Amy asked as Giles lead both her and Dave down the hospital hallway to the infirmary where Xander was being kept.

"It says here that Hell itself resides in every man, woman, child, beast, or devil that resides therein," Giles explained, "Xander is the first human being in recorded history to escape Hell, therefore no one knows what's happened to him. All we know for sure is that he's entered a state of depression that could lead him to suicide. Those men that attacked him…they had Bibles. He must have felt the holiness like a bloody flamethrower."

"So, what, is Xander damned now," Dave asked, worried for his friend, "If Xander has a piece of Hell inside of him, does that mean that that's where he goes when he dies?"

"Absolutely not," Giles said with an angry certainty, "For one, he did not die, he sacrificed himself to save the world. Only Hell's energies kept him alive for however long he was there. Since he did not die, his soul remains pure and is not subject to the rule of Hell after he dies unless he does something worthy of it."

"Like what," Amy asked, her own religious background making her fearful of where Giles was going.

"Modern day religion has gone to the point where only certain things are worthy of Hell," Giles said, "Most Christians still believe that not having faith in Jesus leads one there, but the majority have grown to accept that how one leads their life is the way that whatever's up there decides where they end up. As far as I'm concerned, Xander's sacrifice alone is a one-way ticket to Heaven."

"But that's as far as you're concerned," Dave reminded him, "You, sadly, are not God."

"If God doesn't let him in, I'll kick His arse myself," Giles growled.

Dave and Amy quit talking at that, both honestly believing that the Englishman would try and do just that. The three walked in silence for a moment longer, till they reached the section of the infirmary that held him.

"Elliot," Dave called out as he saw the blonde doctor that he and his niece were friends with, "Can you take us to Xander's room?"

"Absolutely," Elliot said, putting aside her chart for a moment, "I was just about to go check on him after dropping off this order of syringes to Dr. Cox. Follow me."

"How is he since you last spoke to him," Giles asked, walking alongside her.

"Depressed and withdrawn," Elliot said sadly, "I don't know what to do for him."

"We'll figure something out," Amy said, a hint of desperation in her voice, "We've gotta."

They moved along the halls, heading for Xander's room as Elliot searched for Dr. Cox. She found him at the same place they had been heading, with him standing near at the phone talking into it heatedly as he stared into Xander's room.

"Well, what the fuck do you mean 'lost him,'" Perry shouted into the phone, "Oh, gimme a break, you little good-for-nothing, I don't want excuses. No, shut the, shut the FUCK up and listen to me. If you don't find this man, I swear to God, I will rip off your balls, hook them up to a car battery and let them dance around as they fry right in front of your face, do you understand me!...that's what I fucking thought, now" he whistled "GET MOVING!!!!!"

Cox hung up the phone with a huff, touching his nose and folding his arms up as he did so.

"Perry," Elliot asked as she came up behind him, causing him to turn around to face her, "What happened?"

Perry sighed, holding his arms above his head as he did so, "Barbie…he's gone, the nurses have no records of him ever leaving, no one saw him leave. I had the MPs start searching the Zone grounds, but, they haven't found anything."

"Oh, God," Amy muttered, her fear for her friend growing by the moment.

"We need to find him, immediately," Giles said, "Do any of you know where that Flagg fellow is? He might be with him."

"Flagg's with the Janitor in his workshop," Perry informed them, "Cretin was in here earlier, yakking on and on about the Shit-siah and how he was his best friend and they were getting together."

"Don't call him that," Elliot admonished Perry, "Janitor's…he's…"

"A fucking nut," Perry said with finality, "Look, Barbie, I'm giving you the rest of the day off to go find him, they might need you if they find him nearly dead. I'd go myself, but I have patients to look after. Go, find him, I don't want another patient's death on my conscience, especially not from something like this."

"…Thank you, Perry," Elliot said with a small smile, hugging him.

"Get goin', kiddo," Perry said, returning her hug and letting her go very quickly, "Save his ass."

ҲҲҲ

Flagg sat in a meditative position several yards away from Janitor as he continued to work on his latest invention, a design harness for people to fly along with mages, a redesigning of a tandem skydiver harness. Flagg, however, had his mind on other things.

He felt his mind reach out, his Eye flow through the world, coursing through it like a poison, seeking that same entity which he had felt earlier. This time, he knew where to go. He followed its trail of fear, destruction, and carnage to the North, in New England near the Canadian border. He followed its trail and found, to his surprise, that it did not reside in this plane of existence…whatever it was, it existed both within and without this world…that left…

Dreams. He had stumbled upon a dream demon.

He focused his mind fully and with a bit of effort punched his way into the dream. Immediately, he felt a sense of vertigo, but he corrected that with ease as he reformed his mental barriers. He knew instantly that his presence had not gone unnoticed, and he could tell that whatever it was that he had stumbled upon was trying to get into his mind to destroy him. Flagg wouldn't have any of that, so he redoubled his guards and within an instant the pressure that had been upon him evaporated into nothingness.

He took that moment to take stock of his position. He was in, what appeared to be, a boiler room. The heat was intense, nearly melting his face off right from the start. He examined the room carefully, finding it to be an elaborate hallucination. He reached out and touched a set of pipes, then pulled his hand back, finding them to be quite real and quite hot. It was obvious that whatever he had found was very powerful, using the dream world to create an entirely real reality.

He felt something come up behind him, and turned suddenly, ready for a fight…only to receive a shock as he came face-to-face with an eleven year old girl dressed in a pair of pajamas. She had several cuts on her arms and was crying.

"M-Mister," she begged up at him, fearful of but as fearful as she should be in his mind, "P-please, help me…save me from the burnt man."

"Oh, honey," Flagg hunkered down, squatting to get eye-to-eye with her, "Sweetheart, don't you worry…good ole' Uncle Randy's here now."

He gave her his most charming smile, and she actually smiled back at him for a second, before she looked up and her face dissolved into a scream that simply refused to come out.

"What is it, sugar," he had a good idea already, so he rose up and turned around.

"Whoo, boy," Flagg said with a smile as he looked at the figure before him, "She sure wasn't lyin' 'bout you bein' burnt!"

He could tell right away that this was no ordinary demon. This was a human once, he could tell that. But this human must've impressed someone in a low place, because he had been given his position at the very end of his life. The demon was dressed in a pair of brown pants, an ugly as shit orange and green sweater, and a brown fedora. His face was horribly disfigured, as though he had been burnt at the stake. He had a frown upon his face, but Flagg could easily tell that this one smiled a lot, probably a sick smile that could challenge any one of his own. The thing that struck him most, though, was his hand…there was a glove attached to it, a glove with four knives attached to it…a special weapon designed by the man himself, so that he could feel the life force drain out of them into the palm of his hand rather than onto a knife.

Flagg decided, then and there, that he must have him.

"Well, hi there," Flagg said with a grin.

"Who the fuck are you," the demon demanded of him, brandishing his hand threateningly.

"Easy there, partner," Flagg said, with a bit of worry as he knew that he was not on his home turf, but nowhere near enough to actually worry about his safety, "Just passin' thru is all."

"I think I'll have her watch as I skewer you," the demon said with a grin that truly did rival his own, "Have a little more fun with her before I end her miserable existence."

The demon continued to smile as he came closer, but Flagg stood his ground, causing him to frown. At least that's what he thought had caused him to frown, but Flagg noted that the demon was looking behind him now.

"You miserable bastard," the demon muttered, raising his hand even higher in anger, "YOU LET HER GET AWAY!!!!!!!!"

Flagg dodged the blow, then countered with a strike of his own against the demon's head. The demon, however, simply slid thru his hand, becoming transparent as he did so, then remade himself so that his head enveloped Flagg's fist, making him unable to shake loose.

"Time to die," the demon whispered, and he slid his hand forward to impale him.

Flagg chose that moment, wisely, to retreat, moving away from the demon and back to the real world as fast as he could. As he fled, he could feel the demon screaming, holding onto him as he did so, and Flagg forced the demon off with a large effort, sending him reeling back into his world.

Flagg reentered his body with a thud, literally falling from his seat onto the floor as he did so. As soon as he was able, he closed off every entrance and path that he had made, hoping that he had had enough time so that the demon would not be able to follow him back.

"Whoa, there," Janitor rushed forward, holding him up as he did so, "Are you ok?"

"I'll be fine, Neil," Flagg said with a sigh, moving to get back into his seat, "Be a lad and gimme a coke, will you?"

"Right away," Janitor said, moving off to do his job.

Flagg leaned back in his chair, ignoring the clutter around him as he got his head back together. That had been a close one, he realized. While he himself had the power to affect dreams, it was a power that he alone held, always…to have someone be able to fight him on that level, and on that level alone, a level which he could not guard constantly…it was frightening to him…which made it all the more important to have him on his side.

Besides, Flagg realized that this creature could quite possibly be the answer to his problem, to driving the wedge further between the groups.

Someone knocked on the workshop door, hard and fast, letting the occupants both know that it was urgent.

"Flagg," he frowned as he recognized the pothead-Slayer Amy's voice, "Are you there?"

"C'mon in, darlin'," Flagg shouted out, "It's unlocked."

The Slayer opened the door, and she walked in, followed by her fellow stoner uncle, the head Watcher, and one of the physicians he and Xander had first encountered.

"Well, the gang's all here," Flagg said with a grin, "What can I do you for?"

Janitor came back in at that moment, holding an unopened coke in his hand, but he came to a stop as he saw who was there.

"Blonde doctor," Janitor greeted Elliot with a grin, "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I've been busy," she spared him a glance before returning her attention to Flagg, "We need your help in finding Xander."

Flagg took the coke as he sat upright, paying more attention to them as he did so, "What happened to him? Where's he gone?"

"If we knew that, we wouldn't need you," Amy practically snarled.

"Amy," Dave said, "Calm down."

"Yes," Giles said, though it was obvious he disliked being in Flagg's presence just as much, "Flagg, when those two men came into your room and attacked you, did you notice Xander-"

"React to the Bibles and holy symbols like a vampire," Flagg said with a sigh, "Yeah, I noticed. I thought it would be best for him to seek out the truth on his own, with you all for help. I guess he didn't turn to you like I thought he would."

"He escaped out the hospital," Elliot informed him, "We need to find him, now, before he does something."

"…Neil," Elliot stared as she realized that he was talking to Janitor, who actually responded to his real name, "Do me a favor and get your ATV ready for me?"

"Done and done," Janitor said, moving deeper into his shop.

"Stoner-boy," Randall turned to Dave and said, ignoring his frown as he did so, "Go to your brother, get one of his vehicles so you, the Slayer, and the Watcher can go with us. Elliot, you shall accompany me."

"Why don't you just teleport us, o great Messiah," Amy snarked.

"Because not all of you trust me," Flagg countered, "If we're to find Xander in time, we need to cooperate, and that means we need to trust one another. Besides, I need time to find him, I can't feel him right now."

"Does…could that…is he," Elliot could not bring the words to her.

"I doubt it," Flagg said with a smile, "Xander was brought back into this world for a purpose. He will not die until that purpose has been fulfilled. Ka will ensure it."

"Ka?" Amy asked.

"Nevermind that," Flagg said as Janitor wheeled in the ATV, "Come, we've got to head West."

"How do you know," Giles asked.

"Because that's the direction he came from," Flagg said, "And he knows that. He would have it end full circle, in the West, just as Ka would. Let's go."


	14. And Justice For One

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

_A light bulb turns on in a room, blanketing it in light, and yet the room remains in black and white. The room is sparsely decorated, with only a wood chair and a desk and several posters up, one a moving poster with flames moving inside it, the other a poster of a picture of Xander, Buffy, and Willow on it. The desk held a CD player, with Metallica's Unforgiven playing softly. Alongside it was a cracked mirror, and a photo of Xander with his mother and father glued to it, a broken bottle of liquor, a busted guitar, and a wooden stake that had splintered._

_Xander walks up to the mirror, taking a good look into it. His face is not the only face there, as the face of his father stares back from inside his own face. Sighing, Xander turns forward._

"_Less than a week ago, I was in Hell," he says, "Not as in I was in a bad place, but the legitimate fucking Hell. I was tortured…for…well, even I can't say how long."_

_Xander sighs and turns to a window, looking out at the desert thru bars._

"_It wasn't always this way," he says, "I used to have friends, a family, as shitty of one as it was. But that was then…now, I have Giles, my mentor, and I've made new friends, like Dave, Amy, and Elliot. Even Flagg, that Messianic son of a bitch," he cracks a smile at that one, "But, and even though I'm grateful for their friendship, here's the kicker…whenever I touch a cross, a bible, anything…it burns."_

_He sighs for a moment, looking down at the floor, then suddenly lashes out and punches the window, breaking the glass and denting the bars._

"_I WAS RELEASED," he shouts at the top of his lungs, "I WAS FUCKING RELEASED…and…Hell came with me."_

_He walks away from the window, taking the broken bottle from the desk as he does so, and sits down in his chair, taking a drink from it as he does so._

"_When I die," Xander says, "God won't let me into Heaven. I'm going back there…I was given this…reprieve…as a form of torture. It's the only thing that I can come up with."_

_Xander sighs and stares into the bottle, then over into the broken mirror, into his father's face…then tosses the bottle in a fit of anger into the mirror, but neither the mirror nor the bottle break any further._

"…_Our Father, who art a shithead," Xander mutters to himself, staring out into the desert as he does so, "Hollow is Thy head, Thy sucketh ass, Thy art full'a crap, crapping on both Heaven and Earth, give us a break You lazy shit, and hope for FUCK's sake that we forgive you for abandoning us, lead Yourself the Hell away from us, and deliver us from You, for Thou art a lowly shit, the dumbass, and the ultra fuck-up, forever and ever…Amen."_

_He stares out into the desert, softly crying to himself. Outside, in the desert heat, a cliff can be seen several miles away…the place where Xander plans to end it all._

ҲҲҲ

Dave ran into his brother's shop as fast as his legs could carry him, with Amy and Giles several steps behind him. As he ran in, he saw a pair of legs sticking out from underneath a Hummer.

"Tommy," Dave shouted, "Where's Titus?"

"Ugh, in the back with Erin," Tommy said, coming out from beneath the vehicle as he did so, "What's up?"

"We need a car, something to go into the desert," Amy explained.

"Well, we have a Jeep that you can use," Tommy said, getting up from underneath the vehicle as he did so, "Lemme go get you the request form and you can be on your way in an hour."

"Young man, we don't have an hour," Giles interrupted, staring directly into Tommy's eyes as he did so, "A man's life depends on us getting to him, now you will lead us to this vehicle at once!"

"Sure," Tommy said, thrusting the paper at him, "AFTER you fill out the forms."

Giles stared at him for a moment before simply lunging out with a hard right, knocking Tommy down to the ground. Giles would have kicked him, but Elliot came up behind him and grabbed his arm to keep him from moving.

"Damn it, Mr. Giles," Elliot reprimanded him, "We are wasting our time!"

"What the Hell is going on in here," the group turned as a new voice joined them, "Christopher is trying to sleep!"

"Erin," Dave greeted his blonde sister-in-law, "We need that Jeep that you have, like now!"

"Well, was it worth beating the crap outta Tommy," Erin demanded, pissed about the seemingly senseless violence.

"Aunt Erin," Amy said, "Tommy wants us to fill out a request form while our friend Xander is out in the desert, he's trying to kill himself!"

Erin stared at her for a moment before wordlessly walking over to the work desk and pulling open a drawer, fishing out a set of keys for them. As she walked back, she kicked Tommy in the back, letting him know her displeasure with him.

"Here," Erin said, handing Dave the keys, "Go! Save him! And while you're gone, I'll teach Tommy that human life is more important than forms."

ҲҲҲ

Flagg strummed the handles on the ATV lightly as they waited on them, with Elliot sitting nearby, throwing him cautious looks of both awe and curiosity.

"It's ok, darlin'," Flagg said with a grin, "I know I'm gorgeous, but there's really no reason to keep on turnin' away from me. I ain't _that_ cute."

Elliot gave him a chuckle, then immediately appeared depressed with herself for doing so.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't even be thinking of this, what with Xander being somewhere out there, planning on killing himself. It's just…you're the Messiah."

"That's what they call me," Flagg acknowledged.

The physician seemed as though she had more to ask, but Flagg was not interested in what she had to say. He was merely happy that she had finally quit annoying him.

Ka was starting to piss him off. He could feel, literally _feel_ that Xander had something important to do with this whole thing. What role he had to play, however, Flagg had no knowledge of. All he knew was that Xander was needed, by not only his building side but also by the humans.

Destiny aside, Flagg also found himself rather fond of the man. To him, Xander was something of a kindred spirit, a man lost in time, place, and position. Unlike Xander, however, Flagg had the ambition and the desire for more, whereas all Xander wanted was to find his place after his return from Hell…though at the moment it was quite apparent that Hell awaited him should he succeed in taking his own life.

To a degree, Flagg could understand where the man was coming from. To leave Hell all of a sudden…there had to be a bit of unrealness to it, disbelief for the entire possibility…so for him to suddenly discover that Hell had tampered with him, he recognized just how damaging it could be.

But, still, Flagg found that pretty ungrateful. He'd saved his life, and the bastard just wanted to throw that in his face. Flagg had a good mind to kill Xander himself for that, but he was smarter than that.

He turned his thoughts from such things as a Jeep containing the two potheads and the Watcher drove up, each of them with worry written on their faces.

"Alright, Flagg," Dave, the driver, demanded, "Which way?"

"Take the wheel, dear," Flagg said, "Head west! Follow us!!"

"We need to go fast," Amy objected, "Why don't you just pile in with us?"

"Too dangerous, we need more room in case Xander's injured when we find him," Flagg said, "Besides, if something happens on the way we need another vehicle to go back and get help. Now let's go!"

Flagg swore to himself that he would not kill Xander when they found him. As it was, he hoped the man was alive when they found him…but there would be water if the Gods willed it.

ҲҲҲ

"Hmm," Metatron muttered to himself, reading from a file as he did so.

"What is it," he turned his attention to Rufus, the 13th Apostle of Christ, as he came up to him.

"I imagine you've heard of the business that Ms Chase involved herself with," Metatron asked casually.

"Yeah, that shit goin' on in that world where that douche Adam is wagin' war," Rufus said, "It's all the talk in Heaven. Still doesn't answer my question."

"Well, you know how Raven's down there," Metatron said, "The Daughter of Trigon? Well, when she appeared, I first believed based upon what I knew of that world that she was the only comic book character down there. In point of fact, I was wrong. I'd misread the file."

"Lemme see," Rufus asked, and Metatron handed it over, "…Woo, boy. I can see why you'd make that mistake, these guys don't even have powers, they're regular Joes in this world, not comic book characters."

"Exactly," Metatron said with a small smile, taking the file back as he did so, "Imagine the harm it could do if certain individuals were inserted to the mix."

"Castiglione would be good for either side, though ultimately destructive," Rufus said with a frown, "Logan…well, that could go either good or bad for both sides. But I doubt anything will happen, all things considered. Logan's on the other side of the country, and Castiglione and his family are fairly safe in New Mexico, even though Castiglione is still in Special Forces."

"I'm sure She has some ideas on how to get this in order," Metatron said.

"I thought God said," Rufus wondered, but Metatron interrupted him.

"God did say for us to do no more, however, He never said that He would not do something. The natural progression of a world is ALWAYS influenced by God, so She can't do anything to _not_ affect it."

Rufus chuckled and said, "Wonderful. I'll give Her this, She knows how to work the system."

"How could She not," Metatron said as he closed the file, "She made it."

ҲҲҲ

Flagg drove silently, with his eyes closed as he focused in. He could feel him…he was near, but not quite near enough towards where he could pinpoint his exact location.

"We've been driving for almost an hour now," he heard Elliot shout over the roar of the wind, "We need to find him soon, we have no idea what condition he's in."

"He's alive," Flagg shouted back, "I can feel him. I just can't tell exactly where he is."

_Just a little more…a little more…there!_

His eyes lit up a bright red for a moment as he found his…friend.

"Listen to me," Flagg shouted, "I know where he is. I'm going to send you a vision in a moment, then I'm going to teleport to him."

"Alright," Elliot said with a bit of uncertainty, as she had no idea how to handle a vision.

"Here it comes," Flagg warned, then he closed his eyes.

At first, Elliot felt nothing, then she had a moment in which she could feel the pressure on her head, not too dissimilar from a headache, then the full force of the vision hit her. She saw images, some of Xander standing in the desert, others of the directions she needed to take in order to get there. As the images assaulted her mind, she could feel something else snake into her…something…dark.

"Are you alright," Flagg shouted.

"…yea," Elliot said quietly, clutching her head in pain.

"Alright," Flagg said, "Get ready to take over!"

ҲҲҲ

Xander sat on a large stone, staring into the setting sun as he turned his thoughts away from the large hill in front of him. He could not believe that his life had come to this…brought into a cruel world where none loved him, sent to a crueler world where everyone loved to torture him, then brought to this world…where his friends were either dead or on the brink of death.

Heaven was not with him, he knew this as he pulled out his cross once more, blinking at the pain that hit him. He growled out in anger and tossed it away, and the irony of this action was not lost on him. He knew that Hell awaited him, whether or not he chose to end it himself. So, rather than commit himself to a fight that he knew would ultimately lead to the end which he longed to escape, he would spare himself the pain and end it on his own terms.

Sighing to himself, he decided to get underway so that he could end it before the sun completely set. The last sight he wanted to rest on his eyes upon was the sun.

"Well," he jumped up in surprise as he heard the unwanted voice, "What're you doing here, son?"

Xander sighed to himself, knowing that it simply couldn't have been as easy as he'd wanted it to be. He turned around and saw his…friend, dressed in his usual jeans outfit with razor sharp cowboy boots.

"Randy," Xander said in frustration as Flagg casually walked up to him, "What're you doin55f5fdrfrtt55ttt5g here?"

"I asked you first," Flagg said with a grin, then he held his hands up, "Wait, don't tell me…you musta got the damn fool idea in your head to go and kill yourself."

"…I'm going to Hell, Flagg," Xander said to him with an eerie certainty, "Whether it's now or later, I'm going back…and there's nothing either you or I can do about it."

Flagg sighed and shook his head, sitting down upon a rock as he did so, picking up a rock and idly twiddling it with his fingers.

"So you know this, do you," Flagg asked, curiosity in his voice.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Xander explained, "Vampires go to Hell when they get staked, or at least I hope they do."

"But you're human," Flagg reminded him.

"Am I," Xander asked, "I came back from Hell, and no one ever has before…Christ only knows what I am today."

"I do," Flagg said with a grin, "And it ain't a demon."

"Just cause you're the 'Messiah,'" Xander spat at him, "Doesn't mean you know shit!"

Flagg sighed, recognizing that he was fighting a truly uphill battle. Xander was angry, he was in denial about his returning from Hell, and he was depressed because of the pain, both physical and mental, that came from holiness rejecting him. He was lashing out, at himself, at everything…and Flagg honestly did not know whether or not he could save him.

"Xander," Flagg stood and faced him, for the first time really showing him the honesty of Randall Flagg, "I've seen many things…I've seen war, famine, disease, I've seen a world come to an end and I've seen a world begin, I've killed and I've resurrected…but never in all my years have I seen a man come back from Hell. Why are you so quick to deny the gift of life in favor of certain damnation?"

Xander stared at him, legitimately choked up with emotion from the sheer…honesty of Flagg's word. For the first time, Xander was questioning himself, questioning why on Earth he would do what he was doing when it went against everything he was…when the sudden realization came to him.

Because everything he did, every good deed, every bit of faith he put in anything…would lead him back to his Hell, no matter what. To know that life held no meaning, with only one path at the end of the road…

"No fate but what we make," Xander whispered to himself, "Unless that fate has been chained…"

"What," Flagg asked.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to know that you have no control over your destiny," Xander asked Flagg, "Hell…the sadness, the helplessness, the sheer…depth of it all…it's too much, Randall."

Flagg saw what he meant, and finally, he knew that he truly was unable to help him.

"Xander," Flagg beseeched him, a truly unique experience for him, "Ka wants you here, the Wheel of Ka brought you to this place for a reason!"

"The Wheel of Ka," Xander muttered, he was somehow familiar with the phrase…it was an ancient word for 'destiny,' "Ka can kiss my ass!"

Flagg, frustrated with both himself for following Ka and with Xander for failing to do the same, lashed out with a furious blow to Xander's temple. Xander flew thru the air, landing twenty feet away and rolling several feet further, blood pouring from his forehead.

"…oh, Jesus," Flagg muttered to himself, and he ran as quickly as he could over to Xander.

ҲҲҲ

_Xander's space…_

_Xander looks around his room for a long moment, thinking to himself. He felt sore…and his head hurt. He turns his head and looks out the window, seeing the desert as it lit on fire. He stares out for a long moment, till he begins to look around, feeling something…something good. He doesn't know how he knows it's good, but he knows with all his heart that it is the purest good ever._

_He turns his gaze over to the doorway as a white light shines underneath it. He gets up from his seat and walks cautiously over to the doorway, strangely saddened and comforted by its glowing presence. He stares at it for a long moment, then reaches forward with the intent of opening it, but as his hand touches the handle, he feels a pulsing heat from it and he retracts his hand. He stares down at the burn for a moment, then returns his gaze to the door._

_The white light pulsed, as though it was beckoning him to come forward. He felt the pull of it…_

_He glares at it for a long moment, then reaches out and grasps the handle. At first, it won't turn for him, but even as it burns him, he slowly turns it. Finally, he hears the lock unclick and he pulls as hard as he can._

_The door comes open…and he looks inside…and there…he sees Her…_

ҲҲҲ

Elliot stared down at him with a mournful look in her eyes. She looked down at his chart for the hundredth time, noting that he had multiple lacerations that had seemed to heal overnight. He was in perfectly good health as far as his body was concerned…but that wasn't what she was worried about.

It was a strange sight to her, seeing him bound to his bed for fear that he might hurt himself. Even though she had only known him for a short time, she found herself to be affected by him…there was pain there, and a hardness in him that she knew to be in soldiers and survivors…but there was a softness there that she knew few possessed, especially in these times…Carla had had it…Turk had had it…J.D. had had it.

That softness was dying…and she knew that very soon it would be wiped out…at least until the next generation. For some reason, though, she knew his softness would not die…if it had survived Hell, then it could survive the war.

Suddenly, he took a deep breath and his eyes began to flutter as he slowly started to awaken. She stared at him for a moment, smiling at the fact that he was awake, before frowning as she realized what her duty was. She reached into the desk and withdrew a syringe filled with tranquilizer.

Xander blinked his eyes for a long moment, then slowly turned his gaze onto her.

"How're you feeling," she asked him with a small smile, "Flagg had to knock you around to keep you from killing yourself."

Xander stared at her for a moment, trying to think of what she was talking about. All he could remember was going out to the desert, then…the light.

"I feel," he thought for a moment, "Good…blessed, even."

"Blessed," Elliot asked, confused, "But…you were all…suicidal earlier…not that I'm complaining, but…"

"Yeah, I get it," Xander said, staring up at her for a moment before turning up to the ceiling, "Still…it's not every day one meets God."


	15. Dreams of Gods

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

A lot had changed during the time that Xander had been unconscious. He'd slept for three days, and during that time the Free Zone Committees had met to discuss the idea of seeking out an alliance with Adam in order to bring both him and Glorificus down…and they'd voted to allow Flagg to enact his plan. They planned on sending a message to meet at a neutral position the next day, and Flagg was planning on being there. So did Xander, if they'd allow hm.

After he'd woken up, he'd been grilled endlessly by psychologists and physicians on his suicidal romp, and while he could not blame them and, in fact, was thankful for their help and concern…he was also getting extremely fed up with them.

It was obvious to him that he was going through an advanced form of post-traumatic stress syndrome, something similar to the maladjustment that victims of POW camps and the Holocaust survivors went through. It would take him time to get used to his current situation, but he knew he could do it.

One thing that the psychologists wanted to know about was his 'vision of God.' They were debating whether or not it was a trauma induced hallucination or the genuine article. There were quite a few who wanted him locked up as a potential danger to himself and others. On the other side, a significant number wanted him to remain with the population, though most agreed that he needed to be kept underneath constant supervision, which to Xander amounted to the same thing.

On the plus side, Elliot, Amy, and Dave were spending much more time with him. It wasn't unusual to find the Slayer in here for most of her off hours, save when she went out for a cigarette. Dave was in here during his second shift anyway, as his temporary assignment was to the hospital. And Elliot was on call almost 24/7, so she would drop in on him once every hour or so, sometimes more than that. Whenever they were around, he found himself feeling better, much in the same way as he had when he'd seen God.

A lot of talk was going around about him, the man who'd escaped Hell, seeing God while he had been knocked unconscious by the 'Messiah.' Some thought that Flagg had shown him God so that he could see the purity of life and forget the horrors of Hell. Others thought that it was a warning, that God had been trying to tell him that Flagg was a deceiver. Where other people got these ideas was beyond him, but they were all there. The thing that shocked him, though, was that people were more interested in the fact that he had seen God as a woman. Already people were labeling him a blasphemer and heretic, but to him it was the least important factor. After all, there was a very powerful man here that was capable of miracles who was calling himself Messiah…the gender of God took a back seat to that, as far as he was concerned.

But, people were weird.

His vision was sadly pushing more people over towards Flagg's position. Rumor had it that camps were cropping up, with certain people choosing sides that to him didn't even exist. Mages who had never met him were starting to believe that he was the Antichrist to Flagg's Messiah. The story of how he and Flagg had met was going around quickly, and people were starting to put stock in that belief. Beforehand people had thought that Adam was the Antichrist, but with the knowledge of him being from Hell out in the open, people had begun to believe that Adam was something else entirely. The mages were somewhat divided on that, however, as some of them were very open to the idea of God as a woman.

All in all, things were becoming very confusing in the CFZ, and in the Free Zone period…Xander was curious as to how this would affect the current diversity between the mages and humans. While he doubted they'd ever get along, he also doubted they'd ever have all-out war…or at least that's what he'd hope.

"Hey," he turned his mind from his thoughts as his blonde friend sat down before him, "You look like you got a ton on your mind…which is understandable given what happened to you recently. Not to say that it was, or wasn't, a life changing experience, nor that anyone doubts you at all. And I know, by saying that it makes you think that some people doubt you, and they do, but I'm here to tell you that," she smiled, "I don't."

"…Thanks," Xander said, with a small smile, "So when did you turn into a dolphin?"

Elliot laughed…long..and loud…

"Jeez, it wasn't that funny," Xander said to himself, "Elliot, are you ok?"

"I'm good," she said, snorting slightly, "I'm good…seriously. Ugh, I'm sorry, I just…I gotta ask," she leaned forward to look him in the eye, "What was He like?"

"He," Xander asked, "OH! You mean God. She's cool, a bit preachy, but She's got a good message."

"Wait," Elliot asked, "So you're sure it's…God's a She?"

"Yep, boobs and everything," Xander said with a smile.

"…No, that can't be," Elliot said with certainty, "In the Bible-"

"In the Bible, God kills, mains, and destroys, incest goes on all the time, and Jesus curses a plant," Xander said with a small grin, "What was written once has been edited and corrupted by both man and demon to the point where only the key message remains, and even that is butchered by do-gooders."

"So what is the key message," Elliot asked, a doubtful look on her face.

"Peace, love, and tolerance," Xander said simply, "That's all that God is or wants. For His or Her children to be at peace, with love and tolerance for their fellow man."

Elliot stared at him for a long moment, trying to process what he was saying. She had been raised in a stern Christian household, to the point where her religious ideals mirrored those of her father. She believed wholeheartedly in God, and while that was a good thing in these times, it was necessary for her to be more accepting of other viewpoints. Ordinarily, this would not be a problem for her, but the times had forced her to find something new to rely on, and that had been her faith in God.

While it helped her to survive, it could also be blinding if she took it too far.

"If God is a woman-" Elliot started, but Xander interrupted her with a sigh.

"Look, God is," Xander said simply, "Just because I saw Her as a woman doesn't mean that God isn't a guy. Or a hermaphrodite if you wanna go that far! It's not like it matters."

"Yes, it does," Elliot insisted, "If the gender of God is wrong, then…the entire Bible could be-"

"Could be what," Xander asked, "Discredited? Who in their right mind would do that in this day and age, with what's going on in the world? And why would anyone care? We all know the world's bigger that we imagined, and we all know now that God or no God there are things out there that will and want to kill us. Regardless of our beliefs, this fact alone should bring us together."

Elliot stared at him for a long moment, thinking on what he'd had to say. Finally, she just seemed to move on from it.

"What did God say," she asked him.

"…She didn't say anything," Xander said, "I only got this…this feeling from Her…like everything was going to be good…that…I was going to be with Her someday."

Elliot nodded at him, understanding what he meant, or at least se acknowledged how life changing an event that must have been.

"But there was something else to it…She sent out this…feeling of…caution, if you can understand that," Xander was struggling for the words, "It was about Flagg…I'm sure of it."

Elliot said nothing, but a look crossed he features…one which told him that she understood what he meant far better than he had originally thought.

"What is it?" he asked.

She swallowed as she stared at him for a long moment, then said, "In order to find you…Flagg sent me a vision…and…I felt something…dark inside me when he did that…Xander…I don't think Flagg is the Messiah."

"I don't either," Xander said, feeling it to be true, "I don't know what he is…except that he is not quite evil…but he sure as shit isn't good either."

"What do you want to do," Elliot asked, seeking something to follow.

Xander opened and closed his mouth, realizing that he had no idea what to do about Flagg. A part of him wanted to go and kill him now, but another part wanted to give him the chance, seeing as how he'd been nothing but a help to them. He simply had no idea how to proceed…

"I don't know," he admitted, "All we can do for now, I guess, is to keep an eye on him and do what we can to let people know he isn't all he's cracked up to be."

ҲҲҲ

Flagg sat naked in his room, pondering to himself. Thankfully he had been able to erase a good portion of his and Xander's discussion so there was no way the man could ever corrupt his account of what happened.

His accounting of meeting with God (a female God, nonetheless) was intriguing to Flagg. If the White, God, and Ka were in this world, influencing it thru Xander…then it could be something more than he had thought…it could be that the White had foreseen his attempt to control this world and sent someone to stop him.

Flagg resisted the urge to laugh. Xander was little more than a traumatized boy in his mind, hardly worthy of a foe such as Randall Flagg/Walter Padick. However, if that was not the case, then perhaps Xander was meant to be the balance…such as Mother Abigail had been. While the old woman had certainly not been a worthy foe to him, she had served well as a balance which would be necessary…for a time.

He closed his eyes, preparing to go to sleep. He opened his eyes again, only to receive a shock.

He was standing, fully awake and clothed…in a large boiler room.

"Well," he said to himself, trying to get over the shock of it, "This is a kick in the teeth."

He stood his ground, knowing that the demon that he had pursued before had found him and was intending on killing him. Flagg refused to play his game.

He listened, hearing the quiet footfalls of the demon, the heavy breathing of a hunter frustrated with his prey…then came the long, eerie screech of a blade scraping against metal.

"_ONE, TWO, FREDDY'S COMING FOR YOU_…"

Flagg turned his gaze as the world shifted before him, revealing a run-down house at a street corner. He turned around, finding only a warped road sign with the words 'Elm Street' written in blood.

"_THREE, FOUR, BETTER LOCK YOUR DOOR_..."

Flagg turned around, looking to the front of the house. There were three girls dressed in white, two of them swinging a jump rope with the third in the center of it. They were singing a lullaby.

"_FIVE, SIX, GRAB YOUR CRUCIFIX_…"

Flagg stared at them for a long moment, seeing them…and seeing that they weren't real, merely dreams.

"_SEVEN, EIGHT, BETTER STAY UP LATE_..."

Flagg walked towards them, getting right up close to them, close enough to feel the wind from the rope.

"_NINE, TEN, NEVER SLEEP AGA_-"

Flagg reached out and grabbed the rope, then pulled it away. The two girls fell to the ground as he pulled, while the third stared up at him with a frown.

"You're no fun," she said to him.

"Fuck you," Flagg said with a cheerful grin, and he pulled back and launched his sharp cowboy boot deep into her stomach, sending her flying away with a pained cry. The other two girls stared up at him in shock, then got up and ran away from him as fast as they could.

"…That was satisfyin'," Flagg said with a grin.

"RANDALL FLAGG," a familiar growl called out from behind him.

"That's my name," Flagg said, turning around with a cheeky grin on his face, "Don't wear it out."

The demon stared at him, a mixture of annoyance and humor covering his burnt features. He appeared to be more cautious than he had been earlier, less arrogant. That struck Flagg, particularly since the demon knew his name.

"Randall Flagg," the demon said once more, "I saw into your mind…your deepest ambitions…your hatreds, and your fears."

"Try another one, doc," Flagg said, an uncaring look upon his face.

"The name's Freddy," the demon spat, "Freddy Krueger."

"Well then, Krueger," Flagg grinned at him, "It's good to meet you…and you don't hafta guess my name."

Krueger snarled at him, a thoroughly unpleasant sound.

"What is it that you want, wizard," Freddy demanded, "I have no quarrel with bastard children like you."

"Children," Flagg echoed, his grin darkening, "You'd best watch your mouth, boy," his eyes turned red for a moment, just long enough for Krueger to notice, "Or I might just rip it off," he said in the High Speech, a lost dialect which was understood by Freddy as it echoed throughout his mind.

Freddy was gone in an instant, going for him with a speed that Flagg almost couldn't see. Freddy attempted to impale him with his claws, but Flagg grabbed his arm and twisted it, then threw him to the ground and drove his knee into Freddy's throat.

"Ready to listen," Flagg asked smugly.

Freddy merely smiled at him…then he was gone.

Flagg stared at the empty space that had once held Freddy Krueger, only now to see…sand.

Flagg came to his feet, staring up into a moonlit sky…in a desert that he knew he'd seen before.

"Where are you, Krueger," Flagg called out, masking the sudden tremble that had entered his voice for reasons he did not understand.

He walked forward, staring at his surroundings but finding no one. He was all alone in a desolate wasteland with only the watching demon for company…all in all, Flagg was not happy.

"Krueger," Flagg shouted out, "Where are-"

He felt a large blow come across the back of his head, and he went down to the ground, clutching at his head. He rolled over onto his back, intending on blasting the demon to Hell…when he saw who it was.

"Well, well, well," said the darkly familiar voice, "Lookee at yon cully."

Flagg stared up at him…the man…he was dressed just as he remembered, in all black cloth robes with a walking stick and a hunter's knife visible on his belt. He stared down at him with a yellow smile, missing teeth, and eyes that were bled white with Devil Grass…exactly as he remembered him.

"There'll be water if the Gods will it," the voice said, tossing away his stick as he pulled out his knife, "And the Gods certain have willed it tonight."

The man leaned down, placing his knee into Flagg's back, pinning him down as he laid the blade across Flagg's neck.

"You're a sweet little cully, ain'cha," the dark man said, then he licked all along Flagg's neck, "Not a peep out of you, for your father's sake."

Flagg felt him reach down to pull down his pants, and that was enough. He was much more than Walter Padick, the boy who'd ran away from father and home, who'd been raped in the middle of the fucking wilderness…he was Randall Flagg, the Dark Man, the Walkin' Dude, the man who'd brought down men and world alike…the man who quested to supplant God as the one who sits upon the top of the Dark Tower…

Flagg reached out with his power and thrust out, forcing the rapist off of him. Flagg was up in an instant, moving swiftly, and planted his boot into the side of his enemy's body, exploding ribs as he did so. Flagg flipped the man onto his back and straddled him, pounding his fists into his face, ignoring the growing wetness as he bled. Finally, Flagg had had enough of this savagery. He came to his feet, staring down at the man he hated above all, smiling a dark smile down at him.

"Look at yon cully," Flagg taunted, wiping his hands with his jacket as he did so, "You don't look like no cully now, d'you boy!?!"

The man stared up at him, then he disappeared. Flagg stood his ground, knowing without knowing that he would appear again.

"What is it that you want, Flagg," he turned around, facing Freddy Krueger once more in the demon's boiler room.

Flagg smiled at him and said, "Finally ready to listen then, are ya?"

Freddy stared at him, a frown held firmly in place, and he brandished his gloved hand once more, trying to intimidate him…Flagg wasn't having any of it, and he proved as much when he showed him his middle finger.

"Fine," Freddy snarled, returning the gesture with his bladed hand, "Let's talk…demon to wizard."

"Let's do," Flagg intoned, "I have an offer for you, Krueger. One that I doubt you can refuse."

"Oh, really," Freddy leered at him, expressing his lack of caring in his sarcasm, "What's that?!"

"How about children," Flagg said with a grin, "I'm quite sure your supplies from Elm Street aren't what they used to be, what with the war going on."

Freddy stared at him for a long moment, taking the offer seriously. The girl that he had been chasing when Flagg had first encountered him had, in fact, been the first child he'd managed to find in months. With Adam in the world, fewer and fewer people even gave a damn about Freddy Krueger, to the point where he was only capable of attacking a very weak mind, such as the child. Were he at his full strength, Krueger was quite certain he could turn Flagg into lunch meat.

The opportunity to get stronger and kill more children was too enticing for the serial killer to ignore.

"What do you have in mind," Freddy asked.

Sensing he had his attention, Flagg smiled even more, "Well, my friend, ever heard of the Hellmouth?"

"Who hasn't," Krueger said, his impatience growing.

"Did you know that it is capable of affecting people's dreams," Flagg asked, "It does almost the same thing you do, only it influences the darkness of dreams, not outright kills the dreamer…well, not as often, at least."

"…What're you suggesting," Krueger asked, trying to follow Flagg's meaning.

"You are immortal," Flagg said, "Or as immortal as a spirit can be. However, your body still exists out there, buried in consecrated grounds. That must be helping to weaken you. Imagine, however, what would happen should your remains be moved somewhere…say, perhaps, to the Hellmouth?"

"Ah," Krueger smiled at him as he thought on his words, "That way, I could feed from the Hellmouth…imagine how powerful I could be."

"Powerful enough to spread across the nation," Flagg said with a grin, "Maybe even to Europe."

"…What would you get out of it," Freddy demanded, wanting to know the catch.

"Why, little ole me," Flagg asked with a smile, "Well, nothing…unless, of course, you do me a favor with those dreams of yours."

"What kind of favor," Krueger demanded.

Flagg smiled an evil smile at him, showing his true self to Krueger as he did so…and Krueger actually had to stifle a shudder as Flagg laid out his plan.


	16. Relocation

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Springwood…

It was a small town, formerly with a population of almost three thousand. Since the dawn of Adam, the town's population had dwindled down to 400 men, women, and children. The rest of the populace had either migrated away to other area or been killed off by one thing or another. For the home of Freddy Krueger, times had not been kind.

Jolene Grey was one of the four hundred remaining people in Springwood, and she was also alone. She had been alone since her parents had died during a demon attack on the town. She had watched her parents get slaughtered in broad daylight, and that image was permanently etched on her mind. There were others in town who knew of her existence, but they were all preparing to flee the town. They intended to take her along with them, but she did not know anymore…she'd been alone for days and she was scared.

Then, under a week ago, she had had a nightmare. A horrible, terrifying nightmare about a burnt man dressed in an orange and green sweater with a hat…

Jolene reached down to her arm once more, looking at the large gashes that the burning man had left on her. She knew that he was real, that he was out there, waiting for her. She had refused to sleep even once in the days since her nightmare.

One thought stayed with her throughout the ordeal: what had happened to the man who had saved her, Uncle Randy? She began to silently cry, crying for the loss of her parents, for the loss of her hometown, for what had happened to her, and for the man who had saved her. It wasn't the first time she'd cried, and it wasn't the last time she would cry…but it was close.

She stared out from the house she was hiding in, a rundown old house that had been around before her parents had moved into the town. She was looking out at the street, at the only remaining thing on the street, a badly bent and rusted over street sign labeled 'Elm Street.' She heard the caw of a bird, and instinctively looked up.

A very large crow flew down from the sky, landing on the street marker with ease. It seemed to look around for a long moment, as though it were scanning the area. Then, its eyes locked on her. For a long moment, she could feel its gaze on her, a horrible feeling that sent multiple shivers down her spine. The crow stared at her a moment longer, then cawed.

Something dropped behind her, and Jolene gasped out in shock as she turned, expecting to see one of Adam's creations…instead, she found nothing.

She felt a hand come down upon her shoulder, and she gasped once more, turning around swiftly and backing away from whatever new evil had befallen her, closing her eyes as she did so.

"Whoa, there, little darlin'," a kindly and dark voice said to her, "There's nothing to be scared of."

She opened her eyes, recognizing the voice. She trembled as she lifted her gaze to face him, afraid that perhaps her eyes were deceiving her…but when he smiled…she knew it was him.

"UNCLE RANDY," Jolene shouted in happiness, running up to him and leaping at him.

"Hey, there, cutie," Randy said with a smile, returning her hug as he brushed a crow feather off his jeans jacket, "Are you alright, sugar?"

"I'm fine, Uncle Randy," Jolene said with a small smile, happy to see her savior, "Please…can we go?"

"Go," Randy asked, seeming confused, "Where to, sug?"

"Anywhere, just away," Jolene whispered in fear, "Away from here."

Randy stared at her for a long moment, then smiled.

"Why sure, honey," Randy said, placing his hand against her should, "I'd be delighted to take you from here. All you gotta do…is close your eyes."

Jolene looked worried at that prospect. She had been awake for so long that she felt certain that if she kept her eyes closed for too long, she would drift off to sleep…then the burnt man would get her. But she knew that she could trust Uncle Randy.

Comforted by his smile, she closed her eyes.

"Sleep tight, pumpkin," Randy said in a light sneering voice.

She tried to scream, but it was already too late.

ҲҲҲ

Flagg reached inside her and eased her mind to sleep. Very quickly, her eyelids began to flutter. She was dreaming.

Then, her face changed from calm to panic.

"Hurry up, Krueger," Flagg said, "We haven't got all day."

She screamed in her sleep, obviously fighting whatever it was Krueger was doing to her. Several slashes appeared on her arms and shoulders, showing Krueger's rage. Then, the girl went still…suddenly, and frightfully.

Then, her eyes snapped open…red, evil eyes that had no business being on a young girl's face.

"Welcome, Freddy," Flagg said with a smile, "Took you long enough."

"Fuck off, Flagg," Krueger said to him, rising to the child's feet as he tested out her body, "She put up a Hell of a fight."

"Yeah, a little girl must truly be capable of fending off such a worthy foe as you," Flagg said mockingly, "Hurry up, Krueger, I want to get your body on the Hellmouth before nightfall."

"Fine," Krueger sneered at him, flipping him off as he took the child's body outside the door, "Follow me."

ҲҲҲ

"Xander!"

Xander woke up in a huff, tired and frightened by the sudden intrusion.

"What are you doing," Elliot demanded, packing up his stuff as she did so, "We need to get you packed and ready, we're supposed to leave in 30 minutes."

"Leave," Xander asked, sitting up as he did so, "We're leaving?"

Elliot stopped her packing for a moment, staring at him as she did so.

"No one told you," she asked, stunned.

"No," Xander stressed, "What's going on?"

"We're relocating the CFZ," Elliot explained, "After Adam's attack, this area is not secure."

"What," Xander asked, "If that's true, why didn't we move earlier?"

"We had to find a new location," Elliot explained, "Adam has a lot of places scouted out. We're moving to a cave system in Death Valley, it's only accessible via boat."

"Boat," Xander asked, getting up to get dressed, "I didn't know there was water in Death Valley."

"There wasn't," Elliot said, "The mages created an oasis, it's above the valley and the water stretches down and pools at the main cave entrance."

Xander said nothing as he packed, but inside his mind was reeling. The mages had created a brand new base for them all…this would go in either two ways. People would think that they depended too much on the mages, or they would learn to be appreciative of their help.

Xander believed it would be the former…and he hated that fact. But the logic was there.

ҲҲҲ

"This is it," Krueger said as he walked the child's body thru the doorway of an abandoned junkyard.

"Isn't it ironic," Flagg mused with a smile, "They put you where you belong."

Krueger stopped moving and turned the child's head to stare at Flagg, obviously pissed.

"Because you're trash," Flagg deadpanned.

Krueger stared at him a moment, then said "I know you are, but what am I?"

"A burnt pedophile," Flagg commented, "Move."

Freddy glared at him, but walked towards the junkyard, grumbling to himself. Flagg heard his grumbles and laughed quietly to himself as he listened.

Krueger lead the two deep inside the junkyard, closer to the center of it. They climbed over several crumbled cars as they did so, with Krueger smiling quietly to himself as they climbed.

Finally, near the very center of the junkyard, there was a marker: a wooden plank with an image of Freddy and his claw drawn into it. However, the grave itself was open, dug up…with no body inside of it.

"What the fuck is this, Krueger," Flagg asked quietly, not letting his rage get the better of him.

"Someone was here," Freddy growled, staring down at his grave in anger, "Someone dug me up!"

"No shit, Sherlock," Flagg said with a sneer, "That question is who."

"I've killed every single one of the originals who knew of this place," Freddy muttered, "The only one…oh."

"What," Flagg demanded.

"…I spent some time in someone's mind recently," Freddy explained, "I think it must have been him."

"Ok, so we find this guy, kill him, and get your body back," Flagg said, pleased that they now knew what to do, "Where is he?"

"Well…that's the thing," Freddy said, getting angrier by the minute, "Killing this guy might be tricky, considering the fact that he's already died quite a few times."

Flagg sighed. "What are you talking about, Freddy?"

"I'm talking about Jason Voorhees," Freddy spat the name, "He must have dug my body up. Vengeance for me using his mother's face and body to get him to work for me."

"Alright, so we know who we're after," Flagg said, "Where do we go?"

"Camp Crystal Lake," Freddy said.


	17. Thru the Looking Glass

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Flagg stared down at Crystal Lake from his position in the sky. He walked with an eerily calm pace as he surveyed the destruction below him.

There were bodies all below him. Human, demon, and demonoid alike were below him…dismembered, skewered, decaying. It had been nothing less than an orgy of savagery that had left Crystal Lake as nothing more than a pile of death. Flagg saw the death below…and he felt a shudder pass thru him. A thoroughly pleasant one.

He would have this beautiful creature that had done such damage.

"Ugh," he turned to his left to look at Freddy, who was staring down at the death with a mixture of disdain and jealousy, "Jason must've had some visitors."

"One man did all this," Flagg marveled.

"Not a man," Freddy muttered, "A retarded child with a machete."

"Either way, look at what he can do with said machete," Flagg giggled, "Where would he place your body?"

"Probably where he knew it would hurt the worse," Freddy said, "A church."

Flagg nodded and began to walk down to the ground, stepping on the air as though it were a staircase. Freddy followed him, wobbled a bit as he was both unused to using the girl's body and to walking on thin air.

Flagg reached the ground fairly quickly, and walked amongst the chaos and destruction. He noticed that there was a building at the top of a hill with a cross on the wall. Flagg stepped over several bodies to get to the door. He pulled at it and found that it was jammed from the inside. Sighing, Flagg backed up several paces. With a sudden movement, he launched a devastating kick into the door, sending it and several bodies flying away from the front.

"Honey, I'm home," Flagg chuckled out.

There were several bodies inside the church, each of them dismembered to a frightening degree. The alter had been destroyed completely, with a large crucifix with Jesus Christ on it completely destroyed to the point where only pieces of the body and the head remained. Flagg's already large opinion on Voorhees grew exponentially.

"My body is here," Freddy said as he came up beside him, "I can feel it."

"Find it," Flagg instructed, turning away to go outside as he did so, "I'm going to find Voorhees."

"Why," Freddy demanded, "What use does a mad dog have to you?!"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Flagg said with a grin, "You would be surprised."

ҲҲҲ

Elliot moved quickly, helping to get a patient in a gurney loaded onto a truck. The nurse that was helping her was having some trouble, as the patient was secured only with ripped rope. Because of this, the nurse was trying to be very careful while loading him in.

The nurse slipped on the ground, nearly dropping him. Xander, thankfully, was there to catch the patient. With his help, the three were able to safely load him inside the truck.

Elliot closed the doors and hit the truck twice, letting them know to go. She turned to him as the truck drove away, nodding to him as she caught her breath.

"Thanks," she said, "And aren't you supposed to have been gone by now?"

"Yeah, X," Xander groaned out as Amy's fist hit him in the shoulder, with some uncontrolled Slayer strength behind it, "Are you being a bad boy and missing your ride?"

"Only a little," Xander said with a grin, "I thought you might need some help getting the patients out."

"Well, we could," Elliot said with a nod, "Alright, but stick with me so none of the bigwigs will get upset."

"Yes ma'am," Xander said with a grin.

"Amy, are you going to," Elliot stopped talking as she noticed that Amy's attention was away from her, "What is it?"

"There," Amy pointed over to the main yard.

Elliot and Xander looked over to where she pointed to. Their faces turned hard as they saw, and they said as one, "Oh, shit."

ҲҲҲ

Rachel Roth glared into the eyes of the soldier that had dared insult her. The soldier, a Private Curbaine, was glaring right back at her in defiance.

She noticed that there were people behind her, and she could tell that they were mages like her. That made her feel more confident about her position, and it showed as she gave a bleakly smug look. That smug look evaporated in an instant, however, when she saw that a number of fully human soldiers had taken up a stance behind him.

While she had no doubts that she and hers would win, she knew that a fight here and now would be awful for the Zone's morale. However, she refused to back down from ignorant assholes such as he.

"Back off, witch," the soldier said loudly, "Go off and fly your brooms into Adam's dome, and burn up just like a good witch should."

"Watch your fucking mouth, you shithead," one of the mages behind her shouted, "Or we will turn you into a toad!"

"Fuck off, _Malefica_," a soldier shouted back.

That sent several mages into a rage, Rachel amongst them. _Malefica _was a Latin word, meaning 'witch' in a sense that they were evil doers.

"_MALEFICAE, MALEFICAE, MALEFICAE, MALEFICAE,_" the chant started slowly, with the same soldier who had shouted it in the first place, before rapidly growing into an uproarious chant with almost all the gathered soldiers shouting it out.

Rachel glared murderously at them, and began to build up energy, causing her hands to glow black. The soldiers, in response, withdrew their weapons, causing the rest of the mages to build power to defend themselves.

Before the powder keg went off, however, two figures interjected themselves into the middle of it, coming between Rachel and Curbaine. Rachel recognized them both as Amy, the Slayer, who faced Curbaine and Xander, the one whom she had heard to be the Antichrist, faced her. Both of them looked angered by what was going on as they faced them.

"Get out of the way, Slayer," one of the soldiers shouted, "We need to show these fucking Ficas they don't get to walk over us!"

"Either you're with us, Slayer, or you're against us," another said, more quietly but more distinguishable.

At that moment, the already tense atmosphere grew even tenser as everyone realized what was happening there, in that moment. The growing anger that had begun between mages and humans was starting to reach the breach, and if things continued as they were going, they would eventually punch a hole violently thru that breach. If things were allowed to continue as they were, violence was inevitable.

A singular thought was running through all those minds in that moment: was this that moment?

"Y'know, I'm beginning to think you're all a bunch of dumbasses," Xander said, feeling the tension come squarely onto him, "Instead of fighting each other, you should remember that you're on the same side!"

"Who the fuck is asking you," a mage called out.

"They say you're the Antichrist," the quiet soldier said.

All the tension was on him, and Xander struggled to keep his face from going red from that.

"I don't care what they say," Xander said, keeping his voice calm but loud as he did so, "Do you people remember who it is we're fighting?! Adam has taken everything from us! He's taken your wives, children, husbands, friends from you! He's enslaving all of us, not just mages, and not just normal people! All of us are under attack from him, and you want to tear us apart over something as meaningless as whether or not you use magic!?"

He stared at Rachel as his words took effect. She listened to what he had to say…she listened, and she heard him loud and clear.

"He's right," Rachel called out, gaining the attention of everyone there, "We are not enemies, we are friends! And we are wrong to forget that."

She beckoned for him to move. Xander stared at her for a long moment, assessing her before moving to the side. Amy did the same, and Curbaine came forward.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, then Rachel extended her hand. Curbaine looked at it, then at her, then reached out and clasped her hand.

As they shook, people began to fall away from the group, satisfied that the situation had been dealt with. Xander and Amy, even with all that noise around them, heard something that frightened them both.

"This isn't over," Rachel said quietly.

"Damn straight it's not, Fica," Curbaine replied in kind.

ҲҲҲ

Flagg walked thru the forest surrounding Crystal Lake, stepping casually as though he were out for a simple stroll. He stepped over a broken tree and stopped for a moment, examining his surroundings. He sat down on a stump and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so to stretch out with his senses.

The woods were filled with animals, that much he could feel. However, they were all quiet and…afraid. As though there was a great predator around.

Then, there was a large black spot. There was something large roaming the woods, not far from him…something large and dead. Flagg focused in on it, and found that it was violent and had little thoughts but of death. It was thinking about the hunt that would come later on to feed itself. It was also thinking about the intruder inside its midst…

Flagg smiled to himself as he realized that Jason Voorhees was hunting him. And he was closing in now.

Flagg rose to his feet and began to walk towards the lake, and he could feel Voorhees turn to follow him. Flagg arrived at the lake quickly, and he hunkered down on a log and stared out over the water. He reached down and picked up a rock and tossed it out onto the lake, watching it skip across the water.

He almost didn't hear Voorhees come up behind him. Had he been normal, Flagg would not have heard him at all. That impressed him.

The moment he heard the weapon raise, Flagg reached out with his power. He heard something squishy hit the ground, so he turned around.

Jason was a large creature, almost 7 ft tall. He was dressed in a pair of rotted pants and a similarly disfigured shirt, a molded ripped jacket, and a pair of worker boots. His skin was horribly disfigured, decayed to the point where Flagg could not tell his original skin color. He wore a hockey mask to hide his face, as Flagg could tell that he was horribly disfigured. He did not even want to consider what his gloves hid from him.

A large trout laid on the ground. It had been a machete at one point, but Flagg had seen fit to neutralize Voorhees before he spoke to him.

"Well," Flagg greeted Jason with a large smile, "Howdy there. You're a big one, ain'tcha?"

Jason stared at him, tilting his head as though he were confused by Flagg's attitude.

"Oh, no, don't you worry," Flagg said with a smile, holding up hands to show that he would not fight him, "I'm not like the rest of them. I'm different."

Jason stared at him for a long moment, considering him. Then, he began to walk towards him, and Flagg could feel that Jason wanted nothing more than to strangle him and rip his heart out.

Flagg, however, was not one to be intimidated. As Jason got into his personal space, he reached out, aiming his grasp towards Flagg's throat…only to shrink back as he encountered Flagg's magical boundary that he had erected in that moment.

"Sorry, ole boy," Flagg said with a smile, "I'm not 'bout to let you rip out my throat."

Jason stared at the glowing shield, obviously surprised by its existence. He reached out and touched it, shrink back when he felt it send him away.

"I've got a proposition for you, Jason," Flagg said with a grin.

Jason stared at him for a moment, then he launched a devastating punch against the shield. Flagg frowned as he felt the pressure from it, so when Jason launched another punch, Flagg reached out with his own energy.

The second Jason's fist hit the shield, Flagg's power launched out thru the shield, sending Jason flying away towards the forest. Jason's clothes were on fire when he hit a tree, and he fell down to the ground, rolling back downhill towards the shore.

Jason laid on the ground for a long moment, long enough to make Flagg wonder if he were dead. Then, the mass murderer began to stir. Within moments, Jason was on his feet, and instead of going at Flagg again, he stood where he was, knowing full-well that Flagg was not like any other being he had ever confronted.

"Finished," Flagg asked, but he did not wait for a response at all, "Good. Now, I'm here to offer you a proposition."

Flagg walked slowly towards the murderer, smiling congenially as he did so. Jason stared at him, obviously wanting to reach out and decapitate him.

"It's simple, Jason," Flagg said, "When you were young, you drowned. Why? Because your counselors were fucking. But that's not the only reason, is it?"

Flagg got into Jason's space, causing the murder to write in pain as the shield hit him.

"It was because you were ugly," Flagg whispered, smiling evilly at him, "Fuck 'were,' you ARE ugly."

Flagg turned away from him, uncaring as the murder reached out, wanting to grab him.

"You are shunned by the world at large," Flagg said, turning around to face him, "Kept here in your…sanctuary."

Flagg came closer, and for the first time in his life, Jason backed away from someone.

"But what if you weren't shunned," Flagg said with a grin, "What if…you weren't ugly?"

Flagg reached out with his power once more. He reached out…and into Jason.

Jason stepped back as he felt the power flow over and inside him. He writhed for a moment, feeling the bones in his body creak against Flagg's power, feeling his entire form congeal to Flagg's design. The murderer collapsed in pain as his body was reformed. Then, so was his mind.

"There," Flagg said with a large smile as he completed his work, "Rise, Jason, son of Pamela and Elias Voorhees…and look upon thyself."

The murderer was in the fetal position, having been reduced to merely a cringing being. Slowly, however, he uncurled himself, slowly coming to his knees. As heroes, his hockey mask fell to the ground, having slipped from around his face as he writhed. He crawled along the ground, moving for the water, to see what Flagg had done.

Jason reached the water and stared into it…

His fact was no longer decayed and deformed…he now held a handsome face, large blue eyes that shone bright with intelligence. Jason reached up to his face with his now whole hands, caressing his face and brown beard and hair to see if it was real.

His eyes filled with tears as he realized just what Flagg was offering…it was all his mother had ever wanted for him…

Flagg smiled still as he walked up to Jason, squatting down to face in thru the water.

"It could be all yours, Jason," Flagg smiled, "Turn your blade on those who wrong you…on those who wrong us…who wrong me."

Jason slowly raised his head to face him, staring into his eyes.

"W..W-who," Jason spoke, the first words that he had uttered since his childhood.

"Those who persecuted you," Flagg smirked, "Those who deplored your existence, and my own. Those who hate people like us…normal people who hate people like us. People…with power."

Jason stared at him, slowly coming to understand what it was he was asking.

"Leave the demons and the mages and the 'freaks,'" Flagg said with a laugh, "For we shall be of the new world…and the 'normal' people, those bigots…they will be of the old."

Jason stared at him a moment longer…then nodded.

"Say it," Flagg said with a serious face, "Tell me."

Jason stared up at him, then slowly came to one knee, bowing his head before Randall Flagg.

"…I will…s-s-serve theeee," Jason groaned out, not used to speaking.

"Excellent, Jason," Flagg said with a smile, placing his hand on the murderer's back, "Do all these things, destroy the ones who oppress you…and you shall earn your reward."

Flagg disappeared, and as he left, Jason felt his power depart from him, causing him to scream in pain and collapse to the ground. Slowly, the murderer climbed back to his feet, walking slowly and painfully to the lake. He stared down into the lake, into his reflection…and saw a decayed and horribly ugly face…his original face.

His scream echoed for miles.

ҲҲҲ

"What the fuck was that," Freddy shouted as Flagg reappeared before him.

"Jason," Flagg said with a smile, "He is no longer your concern."

"Good," Krueger said with a sick smile, "Now-"

"Now, I will take your body to the Hellmouth," Flagg interrupted, walking over to where Krueger had assembled his former body, "And you will begin your side of our bargain."

Freddy bared the child's teeth slightly in anger, but nodded, realizing that it was what he had agreed to.

Flagg smirked at him as he touched Krueger's body, and he disappeared.

ҲҲҲ

_Little boy at peace…what is this place beyond the stars? Open up your eyes…what are these things you're moving towards? Head so full of wonder…worries in the past…could it be that you are free at last?_

An alarm goes off.

_NO!!!!_

"Oh shit," Dave said, moving to get to the DVD player, "Xander, I'm sorry, I forgot about Kenny going to Hell."

"S'ok," Xander said, or yawned as it were, leaning into his seat to get more comfortable, "I'm 'bout to pass out anyway."

"Looks like you aren't the only one," Amy commented from the front.

Xander responded with the middle finger, though even as she and Dave laughed, he noted that she was correct. Elliot had requested to go in the same SUV as Dave, Amy, and Xander were taking rather than go with the rest of the hospital staff. Cox had been interested as to why, but all she would say was that she wanted to be with her patient. At that moment, she was indeed with her patient, curled up into him as she slept with her head on his shoulder.

As Xander closed his eyes, he could hear Amy whisper, "They make a cute couple."

ҲҲҲ

_Xander sat upon a large rock, staring out into the desert. There is a large explosion in the distance, and a mushroom cloud is growing steadily in the distance._

_He turned his head as someone sat down beside him, and he smiled at the blonde as he wrapped an arm around her._

"_It's pretty," she said_

"_It's deadly," he replied._

"_Do you always have to be a downer," she asked._

"_Well, I did go to Hell," Xander commented._

"_Yeah, but even Angel had more personality than you," she said._

"_Angel…" Xander furrowed his brow in thought, "I'd forgotten about him."_

"_And about her," she said, pointing up to the sky._

_Xander looked up, staring as an image of a beautiful brunette girl appeared in the sky. She was smiling down on him._

"…_Cordy," Xander whispered, "I can't believe I forgot about Cordelia."_

"_You were in Hell," Buffy replied, sitting up and coming to her feet as she did, "I'm surprised you didn't forget about me."_

"_No, I-"he started to say, but she silenced him with a finger to the lips._

"_It's ok, Xand," she smiled at him, turning around and leaping off the large rock as she did so. As she landed, she turned around and smiled up at him._

"_You've got miles to go before you sleep," Buffy smiled up at him, "He's going to win, y'know."_

"_Flagg," Xander said._

"_Yeah," Buffy kept on smiling, "He'll win. But just because he'll win doesn't mean you have to lose."_

_Xander stared at her, then bobbed his head, "I could quit?"_

"_Quitting's not the option," Buffy responded, "Besides, you can't quit. Not mid-way thru the game."_

"_This is more like a third of the way," Xander said, turning around and seeing a Monopoly board game on the rock behind him, with the pieces replaced with Risk pieces._

"_Maybe," Buffy said with a small smile, "Just remember, Xand…it's not me. This is."_

_She smiled and twirled around, showing off her white dress and leather jacket._

"_Always," Xander said with a small smile._

"_She'll watch after you," Buffy said._

"_God," Xander asked._

"_Yeah," Buffy smiled, "But a few others too."_

_She smiled at him, wide and happy, "Bye, Xander!"_

_With that, she turned on her heel and proceeded to march off into the cloud._

"…_Bye," he said._

_Suddenly, he was no longer in the desert. He looked up as the sun disappeared. It was cold, and smelled of fire, sulfur, and rust. He was sitting instead on a hard metallic floor, with steam rising out of it._

_He jumped as he heard the metallic scraping noise. He quickly rose this feet, prepared to fight off whatever it was that was after him._

_A hand appeared in front of his throat, a clawed hand. It slammed him into the wall, holding him in place with ease as a man with burnt skin came closer to him._

"_So, you're the one he fears," Krueger smiled, "Or respects. Or has contempt for. Even he is confused with what he thinks of you."_

_Freddy smiled at him, turning around as though he were checking something, then turned back to him, "Be careful, kid. You know he's not all he seems, and you're starting to get at what he is. But trust me…you have no idea what's coming."_


	18. Chance Encounter

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

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The new base was all they had hoped for…the whole of the CFZ was now housed underground, escaping detection by a quarter mile of solid earth. For the time being, no permanent housing arrangements had been made. Everyone was confined to sleeping bags and tents. While the medical people were not happy about the sand being in their equipment, they were happy to have such shelter for when an eventual attack would occur.

However, for some, their stay would be short. They would be returning to the CFZ in the desert…for their meeting with Adam.

"But you have to let me go," Xander demanded, and pleaded, "Please! Giles, try to understand-"

"No, you try to understand," Giles said as he continued to pack his gear, tossing the things he didn't need haphazardly around his tent, "The general has demanded that you remain here. You are still being carefully watched by almost everyone in this base. And, moreover," Giles sighed, turning to look him in the eye, "Adam will be there, with his lieutenants…Buffy will be there. I don't want you to have to see her as she is now."

"…Giles," Xander beseeched him, "Please. I won't ever call you G-man again if you let me go."

"No, Xander," Giles said, steadfast, "I will not allow it. I'm sorry, son."

"Then why is Flagg going," Xander asked, angered by that fact, "He has no official standing in the Zone."

"…I wish I had an answer to that myself, son," Giles said with a sigh, zipping up his bag as he did so, "Take care of yourself."

"…Wait," Xander called, stopping his old friend just as he reached the door, "Giles…I never asked you…what happened to Cordelia and Angel?"

Giles stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "I didn't want to tell you. I'd hoped you may have forgotten."

Giles placed his bag on the floor. He placed his hands in his pockets, looking Xander dead in the eye. Xander gulped, scared of whatever it was he was going to tell him.

"Xander…I don't know what happened to Angel. Or vampires in general. No one has seen a vampire in almost 3 years now," he sighed, trying very hard to get out what he had to say, "But…I do know what became of Cordelia."

Giles sighed once more, sitting down on his cot as he did so, beckoning Xander to sit beside him, "…After Adam spread outside Sunnydale, I tried to make my way to Los Angeles to get to Angel. But, by then, it was already too late. Adam had spread underneath the city, destroying any resistance. Cordelia was a part of Angel's group…he held on for as long as he could, but…they overran him.

"Myself and a man named Gunn escaped…he died a year or so ago…but, they…Xander…Adam uses human slavery to build his weapons of war. Those Hellhounds and bats of his are captured and trained using humans…each weapon, each tank, each anything he creates…he uses human slavery to build. Cordelia was taken to one of these camps, along with Wesley. Myself, Faith, and a young potential Slayer named Kennedy attempted to rescue them…Wesley was already dead once we found them...Adam is cruel, deceptive, cunning, but he's also wise. He had several mages underneath his control in those camps…he had them cast lust spells on most of the women so the men could work…and…create more slaves."

Xander stared at the sand, taking in everything he had to say. He knew what Giles was saying…Cordelia had been transformed into a slave…a sex slave, used amongst many others to keep the male slaves in line.

He ground his fingers deep into his hands, shaking as the realization came to him. Cordelia was being raped…had been raped…all because of Adam…

"Kennedy died in our attempt," Giles said with a sigh, "Faith…disappeared on our way out. I don't know where she went, or what happened to her…but, by the time I was returned to my station…Amy was called."

Xander stared at the sand…he didn't, couldn't hear anything at all. It was all white noise to him. He didn't hear Giles call out to him…didn't hear the soldier call Giles away…didn't hear Giles leave…all he heard were Cordelia's screams of pain in his own mind.

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Heaven…

"And that's the situation," Metatron said with a heavy heart, "With Voorhees and Krueger on his side, along with a majority of the mages, Flagg has proven to be quite the foe…I truly believe we have damned this world."

"Not yet," Cordelia said emphatically, "Xander and Amy stopped a hate crime from happening down there. It's only just starting, there's still some time for Flagg's damage to come undone."

"Yes, at the moment," Metatron agreed, "But with Krueger on his side, he'll be able to attack both humans and mages in a manner that they cannot defend: their dreams. People will lose even more sleep than they already have, and their subconscious minds will begin to define either mages or humans or vice versa as the enemy. Jason will go on a killing spree, destroying only human, thinning out the ones Flagg has selected for destruction. Not to mention that Krueger has begun attacking the childe's mind."

"But we don't know on whose orders," Cordelia said, "Flagg might have nothing to do with that, it might be Krueger trying to use Xander for his own purposes."

"Krueger was not the one who began the dream," the two turned to see Rufus, the Apostle, standing inside the doorway to God's office, "Some being, somewhere gave him the first dream, and Krueger followed the trail."

"So, now, we have another being to worry about," Cordelia sighed, "It wasn't me, and Flagg has been too busy to send Xander a dream. Who else would do it, and why?"

"We shall see," Metatron said, "For now, we must decide what to do in regards to Flagg. If he succeeds in decimating this world, we shall have to abandon it."

"It won't come to that," Cordelia said vehemently.

"Oh, really," Metatron replied with a sneer, "Your boy has done nothing but role over for Flagg at the moment. He's not shaping up to be much of a leader."

Before Cordelia could get another word in, all three were interrupted by the sound of the Voice of the One True God.

"Yes," Metatron said as God quieted down, "You are right. Flagg has many allies in this world, it is time to send some for the childe."

"I dunno," Rufus said, thinking to himself, "Arcadia is under siege right now. Is it really responsible to take people from that?"

"Apostle, She knows all, She sees all," Cordelia snarked, "Don't question her."

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"There are 4 Apache gunships that will be escorts," General Neusom said to the assembled delegation, "The two Blackhawks will carry the delegation, consisting of myself, my aide, Mr. Giles, several armed soldiers and mages in one, with the other containing…Mr. Flagg," he seemed to hate saying that, "As well as the Slayer, and Ms. McClay, along with another detachment of troops. This is potentially the most important, and most dangerous mission the Zone has ever gone on. I expect nothing but the best from everyone present, nothing but professionalism," he directed his stare at everyone present, "Let nothing stand in the way of our cooperation in this endeavor. Now, let's pack up and move out!"

Flagg grinned to himself as he turned away, walking back towards the main camp to retrieve his assigned weapon, along with a little tool that Janitor had whipped together. As he walked behind a tent, however, someone reached forward and pulled him inside.

Flagg flipped onto his back, reaching for his power as he did so, preparing to send whoever it was that had dared to attack him to Hell…when he saw who it was.

"…It's time we palaver again, Flagg," Xander said to him, staring directly into his eyes.

"Why, whatever for, Xander," Flagg said with a grin, "And why now? Y'know we're off to meet Adam-"

"And that's why we need to talk now," Xander said with a frown, "When you and Adam meet…I want to be there."

"Xander, you know I can't do that," Flagg said with a sad look, "The General-"

"Fuck the General, and fuck you," Xander whispered angrily, "You have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do. I know more about you than you realize, Flagg."

Flagg no longer smiled. He stared at him, a lone frown on his face. It was not a frown of sadness, however…it was a frown of anger.

"I know that you are not the Messiah," Xander continued, unperturbed, "Nor are you the Antichrist. You're something else entirely. I don't know who you really are, only that you aren't as you seem…and you have something planned. Something big…something bad.

"I want you to know…that I don't care."

"What," Flagg said, his frown changing to a look of confusion.

"I don't care," Xander said, seemingly against himself, "Whatever it is you want…I don't care. The only thing that I know you do want…is Adam out of the way. And that makes us friends.

"Whatever it is that you have planned can wait," Xander said, "All I want is Adam destroyed."

Flagg stared at him for a long moment, assessing him. Then, his face lit up into a wide smile.

"He has your woman, doesn't he," Flagg said with a grin.

"She's not mine," Xander said with a sigh, "But she could have been."

"…You and I," Flagg said, still smiling, "Work together to bring about Adam's end. We ignore everything else, and we cooperate. Once Adam is done, we can continue as we will."

Xander stared into his eyes, looking for something neither of them knew of, and when he found that he would never see it, he nodded.

"Do we have an agreement," Flagg asked, extending his hand out.

Xander said nothing, merely stared down at the hand before him. He thought on everything that had been said. If he agreed to this, he was agreeing to systematically ignore everything that Flagg did to further his goal, whatever it may be. He noted, however, that just because he would ignore what was done, did not mean his friends had to. That meant that while they were not exactly enemies or friends, when confronted with the issue of Adam, they would be allies.

Sighing to himself, Xander reached out and took Randall's hand, and gave it a firm shake. Flagg returned it with a firm grip of his own, and the two held it for a moment, then let go.

"Very good, then, brother," Flagg said with a wide smile, "So, how can I help you?"

"You can get me to this meeting, one way or another," Xander said vehemently, "I want to see the son of a bitch."

"…you can't try and kill him," Flagg insisted.

"No, I can," Xander replied strongly, "But I won't…because I want to do something else."

ҲҲҲ

"_This is the end…beautiful friend…this is the end…my only friend, the end,"_ Xander sang softly to himself, listening to his newly recovered iPod as he did so, watching the helicopters prepare to take off.

Flagg tossed his gear to the soldier inside, then stopped for a moment, turning to where he knew Xander was. He smiled at the man, hiding inside a pile of sand. He could feel the man frown back, but he paid it no mind. Now, they had an understanding.

"The killer awoke before dawn," Flagg said to himself, coming inside the helicopter and strapping himself in as he did so, "He put his boots on."

The helicopter began to take off. First the Apaches rose up, taking their positions around the Blackhawks.

"He took a face from the ancient gallery, and he walked on down the hall," Flagg said to himself as he snapped his fingers.

"He went into the room where his sister lived and…" Xander stood, and began his mad dash to the helicopters.

"Then he paid a visit to his brother," Flagg closed his eyes and focused.

"And then he walked on down hall, and…" Flagg focused, and a rope and harness appeared beneath the landing struts, invisible to the Apaches.

"He came to a door, and he looked inside," Xander, invisible to them as well, leapt up, grabbing the leg of the helicopter.

"Father? Yes, Son? I want to kill you," Xander held onto the leg as he strapped himself into the harness, holding on for dear life until he was safely inside as the helicopter flowed forward.

"Mother," Flagg whispered, "I want to…" he opened his eyes and saw that most everyone in the helicopter was staring at him, some with curiosity and some with fright.

"Sorry," Flagg said with a laugh, "It's my favorite song. Jim Morrison was a God."

Some nodded, smiling as the realized that Randall was a Doors fan. Others nodded along, happy to have the freak quiet down.

Beneath the chopper, invisible to the naked eyes, Xander rode in his harness.

"_This is the end…my only friend, the end…it hurts to set you free, but you'll never follow me,"_ Xander stared into the sun, thinking of everything that Adam had stolen…thinking of everything that he would give to see it all back, _"The end of laughter…and soft lies…the end of nights we try to die…this is the end."_


	19. Riders on the Storm

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

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CFZ…

Xander stared hard at the ground as they approached the CFZ. It was barren now, where once there were people milling around, attending to their duties. The 3 story hospital was the landmark that the delegation from both the Zone and Adam's forces were using. They were to meet in front of it, with Adam's delegation approaching from the West, while the Zone would approach from the North.

Xander watched carefully as the helicopter flew in, preparing for its landing atop the hospital. One helicopter would land atop it, with the soldiers from above providing cover, while the other would land on the side of the hospital. The one atop the hospital would lift off immediately after the delegation got off, remaining airborne for the duration of the meeting. After that, the Blackhawk would land and pick up its passengers, creating a more stable environment for the two forces. Two Apaches would land, each facing the direction that Adam and his forces would come in from, while the other two would remain airborne, patrolling around to ensure that nothing funny happened.

Xander felt the helicopter shudder violently as they began to hover over the spot. Xander stared at the ground for a long moment, then pulled hard on the trigger, causing his harness to detach from the grappling. He fell a good ten feet before he hit the ground, rolling with it as he did so. He rolled a good 7 feet, right at the ledge, before bringing himself to a stop. Groaning out in pain, Xander quickly brought himself over the side of the hospital, holding onto the ledge as he kicked in the window to the top floor. Once inside, he quickly made his way to the stairwell.

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Flagg, meanwhile, relaxed his mental focus on Xander, knowing that he was now inside the building. As soon as the helicopter landed, one of the soldiers started shouting for them to leave the aircraft. Flagg, along with Amy and Tara, and two soldiers, got out of the bird, moving quickly for the rooftop entrance.

ҲҲҲ

Neusom stared into the sun as the delegation assembled. It had been smart of Adam to have the meeting with them coming from the West just as the sun was setting. He had been in many battles, and seen many more, but this was the first time anyone from the Zone had come face-to-face with Adam and even considered getting out alive. He fully intended for everyone to make it back.

He checked his watch, seeing that they were several minutes ahead of time. Adam had a reputation for machine-like precision, so Neusom had no doubt that Adam would be there shortly.

And, before he had even finished the thought, he heard the tell-tale roar of a Hellhound.

"Gentlemen, ladies," Neusom called out as the soldiers took their positions, readying their weapons, "Get ready."

ҲҲҲ

Four Abrams tanks were approaching. They were on each corner of the armored personnel carrier that was swiftly approaching the delegation. In the space that was not occupied by tanks were dozens of Hellhounds, along with four demonoids striding demonoid-like horses, with oddly shaped portions of flesh and metal where there should only have been fur. The demonoids themselves were each armed, literally, with varying types of assault rifles. In the sky there were six or seven bats, each of them floating around, scanning the area as Adam's forces made their approach.

In what everyone present found to be an impressive (and frightening) display of uniformity, the Abrams separated off, aligning themselves to make a semi-circular line, facing the members of the Free Zone delegation, allowing them to easily gain a tactical advantage as one of the tanks leveled its cannon against the delegation, while another aimed at the roof of the hospital, and the others loaded up against the helicopter.

Neusom begrudgingly gave Adam his due, even as the Hellhounds lined up with their handlers in toe, forming a line between each of the tanks. Six hounds came forward as the APC came forward, ahead of the line of tank and hounds, with three hounds on each side. Neusom knew that if he had considered a surprise attack, it would have gone very badly for his side.

The APC stopped for a long moment, standing there ominously as the hounds snarled out. Then, the APC slowly began to open its primary entrance, a large doorway that opened up in the front. The doorway lowered to the ground, slowly at first, then slammed down with an ominously loud noise, visibly startling everyone except for Flagg, who smiled even more.

The Hellhounds roared out even more, as though they were growing impatient with their wait. Then, a heavy foot fell inside the APC. As one, the Hellhounds silenced themselves, sitting up straight on their hindquarters and staring straight into the Zone delegates. The eerie hush that lingered afterwards was physically uncomfortable to all present, even the soldiers atop the hospital and Xander felt it.

Then, footsteps. Slowly, but surely, Adam and his own walked out of the vehicle, with a calm uncaring attitude that let them all know exactly how he felt about them.

For Xander, Adam was everything he'd thought he would be. While most of his body was visibly demon, a part of his face was clearly human. He did, however, surprise him by not being dressed in some immaculate choice of clothing. Instead, he wore a simple pair of camouflage pants, no shirt, and a pair of standard issue Army combat boots. His look of calm collectiveness did nothing to ease their minds.

Even as Xander assessed the bane of the (human) world, another figure walked into their view…one whose presence brought much pain to both Xander and Giles.

Buffy stood there, dressed in a pair of camouflage pants and combat boots, and a black sports bra…only, it wasn't Buffy. That was apparent from the rest of her. A large portion of her waist and chest was sickly, scaly reptilian gray, all the way up to her left collarbone. One of her arms was normal, while the other one was clearly metallic with gray flesh covering it, as the flesh was torn at parts, revealing a metallic endoskeleton. A side of her face was completely covered in gray, while small horns covered both sides. Her hair was the only thing that was completely intact, though it seemed perverse to see such hair on a being like her.

"Buffy," Xander whispered to himself, before closing his eyes and focusing, "It's not her…it's not."

He noted that she was standing very close to one of the demonoids, a large one with red demonic skin covering most of his body, save for his face and his hair.

He ignored that for the time being, filing it away for later usage. He settled in, preparing for what was to come.

ҲҲҲ

"General Neusom," Adam smiled an evil smile as he approached, with his delegation not far behind, "Commanding Officer for the California Free Zone. It certainly is a pleasure."

Adam made no effort to extend his hand, and neither did Neusom. Neither had the patience for needless formalities, especially when both knew that neither would mean it.

Adam came face-to-face with Tara, and the woman to her credit did nothing but glare at him.

"Tara McClay," Adam said, "The White Witch. Your reputation precedes you."

"As does yours," Tara whispered, staring directly into his eyes.

Adam walked steadily onward, ignoring the White Witch's gaze as he came face-to-face with Amy Fitzpatrick, the Slayer.

"Ah," Adam said with a curious look, "The prodigal Slayer, the hope of humanity from the face of evil...being me, I imagine."

Amy glared up at him, barely holding back her desire to completely fuck his world up. She refused to take his hand, and when Adam lowered it, he turned to his own Slayer and said, "Were you that rude before your ascension?"

"Oh, I was worse," Buffy said with a small smile, "I woulda called you 'Papa Smurf.'"

Adam said nothing, though his humor at the response was not unseen as he moved on, facing each member of the delegation and acknowledging them. When he reached Giles, Adam made no comment about his familiarity with Buffy, though they both knew that the other was aware of it.

When he reached Flagg, however, his calm demeanor faltered. It was, instead, replaced with a look of curiosity.

"Randall Flagg," Adam muttered, "I've heard many things about you."

"Adam no-last-name," Flagg said with a smile, extending his own hand as he did so, "Put her there."

Adam stared at him for a long moment, then slowly reached out, grasping his hand and placing it in what was meant to be a painful grip. To Adam's surprise, however, Flagg showed no signs of discomfort and, in fact, was able to meet his own grip with relative ease. Flagg released his own grip first, smiling as he did so, and Adam let his own hand gently fall, staring at Flagg with abject fascination.

"Or should I say _Terminator__-wannabe_," Flagg grinned, "Arnie pulled it off a lot better than you ever could, son."

Adam stared at him, not angry, merely curious, and said, "They say you are the Messiah, come to save the world from me. Why, then, is it that I hear mutterings of a schism rising between the 'normal' people, if there is such a thing, and the 'mages,' who are fundamentally human save for the fact that they have the ability to practice magic and choose to do so? I suppose in some ways, that constitutes a bit more hostility, as a black person cannot choose to NOT be black, though it is arguable as to whether or not gay people get it worse than black people do, considering that they supposedly 'make the choice.'"

"I do not know of any such schism," Flagg said with a small smile, "We, humans, mages werewolf, creature not mortal, are aligned for the first time in history, aligned against something worse than this world has ever seen. You, an evil that the men and women of military, of science, brought into this world."

"I suppose," Adam said thoughtfully, "Though, if we are to believe that the Messiah is among us, would it not be more believable to assume that I am he? I am born of both man and demon, a link between the two major sentient races of this world. I have only a mother, and she was a virgin at the time of my creation, and I act out of benevolence, fulfilling a purpose that I was born knowing. I do the work described in the Bible, making man's bodies anew in the light of my own creation. Perhaps I am the Messiah."

"The Messiah comes as a man, a being created in God's or the world's design," Flagg countered with a grin, "You are most certainly not in the image of a man, but in the image created by the mind of a warped and twisted slutty bitch."

Adam growled a low growl, earning a happy grin from Flagg.

ҲҲҲ

Xander opened a window quietly and slowly, setting it up towards where his binoculars could rest in the frame, allowing him to look out with relative security. Flagg was already making rounds with Adam, as Xander could easily see the look of growling anger pass thru his face. It was apparent that Flagg was not only capable of meeting Adam's mind games, but that he was ready and willing to do so. Xander, not for the first time, questioned whether or not he had made the right decision in ignoring Flagg's little games.

The wind picked up, flowing throughout the building towards the delegation as they spoke. He could see that they had begun speaking of Flagg's plan, as Adam had a look of pure thought on his face. Sighing, he thought to himself on everything that had happened and that would be happening.

Flagg was going to succeed, Xander had very little doubt about that. The opportunity for Adam to kill all the human resistance, as well as for the resistance to kill Adam…it was too great to pass up, not even Xander could deny it. That was not the question, however, that Xander was pondering.

His mind was racing with thoughts of Glorificus, the Hell Goddess who was the key to all this. To Adam, who was there as both an opponent and an eventual (albeit, temporary) ally. To Buffy, who stood before him, awash in a sea of demonic energy that she would have once denounced with all her being. And...to Flagg, whose actions belied his inner...chaotic nature.

Flagg denounced the nature of good that Xander knew he tried to personify. He was not good, but Xander did not believe he was truly evil.

As his thoughts rotated once more away from Flagg to thoughts of Glorificus, Xander saw something that truly confused him, but something that truly lifted his heart as well.

Buffy was down there...staring at Giles...with a look of...

Xander, in a moment of clarity, realized what it was he was here to do. He had, at first, meant to follow Adam into the Hellmouth...to see what was there, to see if there was nothing that he could do to bring it down all on his own...but, now, he realized it...

He was there not to destroy, but to try and reach out to a lost friend.

He left most of his gear there, realizing he had very little time in which to accomplish his goal. He ran as fast as he could, but as quietly as he could, knowing what awaited him if he were to be detected.

ҲҲҲ

"This...Glorificus," Adam paced for a moment, thinking, "She intends to use this...Key to open the Hellmouth, which is the center of our strength? In order to return to Hell to gain vengeance upon those who sent her away?"

Flagg snickered quietly to himself, but nodded all the same.

"So...we should put forth the effort to rid the world of this Hell Goddess, to destroy her when we could...just as easily, even moreso, send her back to her home?"

"Have you any idea how difficult it is to find a doorway into Hell," Flagg asked with a laugh, "Without the doorway of Acathla, which thanks to Mr. Giles and your compatriot over there, is currently a pile of rubble, and with the other Hellmouths currently inactive, yours is the only known doorway to Hell. Besides, imagine just how much damage she could potentially do...the Key is meant to open up doorways to thousands upon thousands of dimensions, not just to Hell. Even if the Key is inactive, if it is used to siphon off the Hell energies...the consequences could be disastrous, potentially just to the Hellmouth...but, more likely, to all of us. And, while it is tempting to role the dice and hope that when she finds her Key and comes back to the Hellmouth, she just destroys all of you and none of us, my ma didn't raise no God damned fool," Flagg finished with a laugh.

Adam nodded his head, recognizing Flagg's point, but said, "And I am to fail to notice that my lowering the shields would be a perfect moment for the human forces to launch a full attack?"

"Oh, no, by all means, notice it," Flagg said with a smile, "But, also notice that it is an opportunity for y'all to attack us during that attack. You can try to beat us. And, hey, at the very worst, a lot of people on both sides get killed, which is already gonna happen. Or, perhaps, you can annihilate us or damage us to the point where our spirit breaks, or we can annihilate you and free the mages, at which point we win. Either way, damage is done to us and some to you, too, or the war ends for whoever will win...this war has lasted for almost eight years now, Adam...isn't it time to end it?"

Adam stared at him for a long moment, thinking it over. Finally, however, Adam had no choice but to nod in agreement.

"Indeed," Adam said in that oddly intellectually robotic voice, "This war has gone on long enough. Very well then, Randall Flagg. We have an alliance. But...only on this goal. Otherwise, we are still at war...agreed?"

"Agreed," Flagg said with a large smile, reaching out and shaking Adam's hand as he did so.

"I notice that you hold no rank, Flagg," Adam said with an intrigued tone, "And, yet, General Neusom had little to say or do except turn red in anger at you assuming command at this point."

"Well," Flagg said, smiling at Neusom who glared at him as he did so, "When men like him brought you to our doorstep, I see no reason to trust fully in the minds of such men."

"I do appreciate your logic," Adam said with a small smile, the first one he'd cracked the entire time, "It will be interesting when we wage the final battle."

"Yeppers," Flagg said with a shit-eating grin, clapping Adam on the shoulder as he did so, "Get the fuck outta here, you overrated science fair project."

Adam glared at him, obviously tempted to try and murder Flagg right then and there...instead, however, the head demonoid turned on his heels and marched back to the APC.

"Bye-bye," Flagg waved after him, laughing as he did so, "Tell yo mama I said to not bother with the break-away panties tonight, the slut!"

Adam did not visibly react to Flagg's taunting, but Flagg could still feel the anger flowing from the demonoid. Smiling even more, Flagg called out, "Radio us about who, when, and where we're gonna start the search for Glorificus! And Yippy-Ki-Yay, Motherfucker!"

With that being said, Flagg ignored anything more that the demonic machine had to say, turning his back on the creature and heading back towards the helicopters.

"General," Flagg said, wiping his hands free of dust (not quite) as he did so, "When we take off, take us in a southern-ish direction, if you please."

"Excuse me, Mr. Flagg," Neusom started, obviously enraged, "What gives you the-"

"General, I'd just as much not continue this conversation in earshot of our friends," Flagg warned with a wink, "Let's get airborne."

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Adam took his seat inside the APC, not letting his composure slip as he realized that Flagg was hoping he would do when in private. He motioned over to Madison, the most powerful of the few mage-demonoids. She walked over to him, mindful of the bone strut that was protruding from her elbow, and held her hands over his body, starting with his hands. Immediately, she paused, staring up at her Master.

"He placed two spells on you," Madison said, "Not overly powerful, but powerful enough to track till you reached the barrier."

"He meant to know what path we took," Riley Finn said, placing his hand atop the gray metallic hand of Buffy Summers, "Smart. He probably figured that would be the safest path to have the troops take to position themselves for the final battle."

"Flagg certainly is cunning," Buffy said, rubbing the hand of her lover as she did so, but she smiled and said, "But nowhere near as cunning as you, Master."

"Maybe," Adam said, leaning back in his seat as Madison began to rid him of the spells, "But he has more understanding of the human mind. He knew how to rile me, and he is behind the schism growing on the other side. And, even now, he is working to rid them of the nanobots we ushered onto their bodies to track them to their new haven."

"Oh, well, I'm sure that we will find it soon," Buffy said, leaning her head on Riley's shoulder as she did so, "And even if we do not, we'll just kill 'em all when they come for us."

"Master," the APC operator called out, "There's someone blocking our way...a human."

"So kill him," Adam said.

"Well, that's the thing, Master," the operator called out, "The Hellhounds...they won't move against him."

That got Adam's full attention. The demonoid moved to the front to look out the window, and he stared for a long moment before calling for Buffy. The former Slayer shared a look with her lover before moving up to join her Master in the front. The eldest demonoid pointed out to the front.

"I believe you know him."

Buffy stared out the window for a long moment, shock written across her face. Slowly, however, a grim look of anger covered her features.

"Let me see him."

ҲҲҲ

_Xander, you dumb asshole, what the fuck are you doing?_

The man stared at the large military vehicle before him, scared out of his mind. While he wasn't scared in any way, shape, or form of Adam, he was scared of dying again, particularly since he was still recovering from his fit with suicide.

However, he was curious about something. When he had come around and stopped the convoy, the Hellhounds had reacted to him in a very...odd way. They seemed to not even be aware of him, let alone interested in killing him. To them...he was either not there, or...he was one of there own.

He knew that that would not be enough to stop them if they were ordered to attack him, after all, they had tried to kill him during the battle. But, for right now, to them he was nothing more than another hound.

Slowly, the APC opened up, not as intimidating as it had been the first time, but intimidating nonetheless. The sound of slow but angered footfalls echoed inside the great metallic beast before him, and he clenched his fists, prepared to take what was coming to him.

He felt a sharp pain in his heart as he saw her...Buffy.

She came out of the vehicle with a cold look on her face, frightening more so than if she were human due to her demonic visage. She came to him, quicker than he had ever been prepared for, and without any hesitation punched him square in the jaw, batting away his sudden attempt to block her punch.

"You have some nerve, you little piece of shit!" Buffy shouted out, glaring down at him.

Xander groaned out loud, rubbing his jaw gingerly as he did so, noting that there was no blood by some minor miracle. He sighed, rising to his feet slowly, mindful of her attempting to finish the job, and stared at her.

"...Hey, Buff," Xander said with a small grin, "Long time, no see."

"Yeah," Buffy said with a vicious smile, "Ten years, in fact. So finally had the balls to crawl out of whatever hole you were in that whole time, have you?!"

Xander couldn't help it. At the sound of her voice, the angered sarcasm and the sheer closeness to the truth in her words, he cringed, thoughts of his dream and of Hell descending upon him like a hammer.

Buffy stared at him, assessing him, then snorted in disgust.

"What happened to you, Xander? What made your balls drop off? You never were much use in a fight before, but I could always count on you to be there when the shit goes down. You...you weren't there," as she said this, there was a touch of emotion inside of her voice, a hint of sadness and desperation as she spoke, "And now, you're with them?!"

"Them," Xander said with a sigh, "Are the people that you are supposed to be protecting, Buffy."

"Adam has shown me the way, Xander," Buffy said with a small growl, "People die every day, whether it be from sickness, accidents, their own idiocy or the hands of their brothers and sisters. Adam...has found a way to end all that. Do you know when I will die of natural causes? In 134 years, 1 month, 13 days, 11 hours, 13 minutes, and forty...three seconds now. I buried too many people, Xander, to even consider not allowing Adam to do his work."

"You do realize that you've got a ton of wires and robots and shit in your head that's making you believe that, right," Xander asked, "You KNOW that, don't you? And besides, there is no way that the Buffy I know would ever condone this, not even if it meant the whole world could live forever! You wouldn't condone people being slaughtered, enslaved, or forced to become these perverted visions of Adam's!!!"

Buffy launched out another punch, and Xander barely dodged her. She came at him again, attempting to land more blows, her eyes lit with rage. Xander backed up even more, blocking as many blows as he could before she landed a kick to his chest, sending him flying into the air, landing 20 feet away. Before he could even consider getting to his feet, Buffy was on top of him, her fist upraised and prepared to drop down on him like a ton of bricks.

"You will NOT speak of him in such a manner, Xander, our past friendship be damned!"

Xander stared up at her, his body bruising from her assault, and a memory of a memory came to him.

"_You've got miles to go before you sleep," Buffy smiled up at him, "He's going to win, y'know."_

"_Flagg," Xander said._

"_Yeah," Buffy kept on smiling, "He'll win. But just because he'll win doesn't mean you have to lose."_

_Xander stared at her, then bobbed his head, "I could quit?"_

"_Quitting's not the option," Buffy responded, "Besides, you can't quit. Not mid-way thru the game."_

"_This is more like a third of the way," Xander said, turning around and seeing a Monopoly board game on the rock behind him, with the pieces replaced with Risk pieces._

"_Maybe," Buffy said with a small smile, "Just remember, Xand…it's not me. This is."_

_She smiled and twirled around, showing off her dress and leather jacket._

The memory of the memory of the dream hit him like yet another hammer to his damaged skull. He figured that he'd probably had some brain damage, but it wasn't like it mattered. He was not scared of such trivialities.

"Do you hear me, Xander?!" Buffy shouted down at him, her fist shaking from the rage she held.

Xander smiled a small, sad smile at her, one which caused her to relinquish her hold on him just slightly. He stared up at her with a look of sheer...longing and sadness that she nearly backed away. It was not the longing of a lover, but the longing to see someone again, someone that would never come back again, and the pain of that fact brought on the sadness.

"...I truly am a dumbass, Buffy," Xander said, laughing as he did, "I have a dream warning me not to do this, but I go and do it anyway. You're not her...you'll never be her so long as you have whatever that thing did inside you. I'd like to think that, one day, maybe you will be again. But I know, in my heart, you won't ever be the same. Ka meant something else for you, and I hope it guides you back to us."

He leaned up towards her, and as much as she wanted to back away, to hit him, to kill him, she found that she count not, that some...strange impulse made her stay. Slowly, softly, Xander laid a gentle kiss onto her forehead.

As his lips left her skin, a faint wisp of smoke floated away from her forehead.

"...I'll always love Buffy," Xander said with a soft smile, "But, she's not here anymore."

He gently pushed her off him, and she surprisingly did not resist as he came to his feet. The Hellhounds stared at him as he passed, confused by the presence of one of their own moving away from the pack without orders from their masters. He walked calmly, with his shoulders oddly slumped but his head high, seemingly not aware at all of the world around him.

Buffy sat where she was, thinking to herself on what had just occurred. Even when Adam asked her to explain her actions, she could not do so. That night, when she and Riley made passionate love, she still could not quite forget what had happened. The next day, when Adam had her hooked into a large computer to download all the information regarding that event, wiping it from her memory and ensuring that her loyalty to him remained unquestioned, the last thought that echoed through her mind was curiosity over just what exactly Xander had meant.

And, even as Adam's machines formed a Tabula Rasa, they could not quite remove the little piece of energy that had passed on from him to her.

ҲҲҲ

"You stupid bastard," Flagg laughed as the helicopter took off, rubbing everyone's hands with his own as he did so to magic away the nanobots, "What the fuck were you thinking, going out there and talking to that bitch? In full view of Adam, no less."

"I wasn't thinking," Xander said, "I just...I came to this thing to see how it went down, and I thought about kicking some ass and taking some names while I was here, but...when I saw Buffy, I saw her looking at Giles with this...look of familial longing, like she wanted to go to him, but she couldn't. It honest to God broke my heart. So, in a monumentally stupid act, I went down and talked to her and you guys saw the rest."

"What the Hell were you even doing here to begin with," Neusom started off at Xander.

"General, please," Flagg said, an exasperated tone in his voice, "There's no reason to start in on him."

"He jeopardized our mission with his sheer presence," Neusom countered, "What if he'd been going over to join forces with Adam!?!"

"That won't happen," both Flagg and Xander said this as one, each sharing a look and a smirk with each other as they said this.

"So YOU say," Neusom said with a growl, determined to not let Flagg role him over, "You, however, are still a civilian underneath suspicion. You BOTH are!!!"

Flagg said nothing, merely fixed a dark smirk upon his features and locked eyes with the general. The man, however, would not be swayed by Flagg's attempts to control him. With a growl, he turned to the pilot and instructed him to radio ahead and have an MP detachment waiting for them to take Flagg and Xander into custody.

However, as he did so, someone very unexpectedly decided to stand up for both Xander and Flagg.

"Oh, shut the FUCK up, you dumb shit," Amy Fitzpatrick said with a roll of her eyes, "Flagg's obviously on our side, as much as I hate to admit it. And yeah, Xander did disobey your orders, but can you blame him? Far as he's concerned, your word means shit considering the fact that the authority he was last under was SATAN. Besides, he wanted to see his friend, and you can't blame him for that.

"Besides, if you try and have Flagg locked up, you would have a mage riot on your hands as they'd protest him being locked up after everything he's done and sense a lot of people consider him to be the Messiah. Imagine having armed soldiers go up against pissed off mages while Adam's still out there..."

Neusom stared at the Slayer for a long moment, going over what she had said inside his mind. Slowly, however, he had no choice but to see the logic in her words.

"Alright," Neusom acquiesced slowly, before getting angry again and saying, "But you'd damn well better believe me when I say this, Harris...if you EVER step out of line again, I will fuck your world up! Do you get me?!"

"Fuck off," Xander said with a sigh, leaning back in the aircraft as he did so, "I'm going to sleep."

Flagg openly laughed at that, long and hard as Neusom's face became redder than a strawberry. Even Amy had to crack a smile as he said that.

"Listen here you mother-" Neusom started in, only to be interrupted as an obnoxiously loud snore filled the helicopter.

"Oh, let him sleep," Amy said, leaning back in her seat as she did so.

Flagg laughed as he leaned back in his own seat, letting his mind wander as he did so.


	20. The Hotel o'Dim

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

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Greenwich, Connecticut:

Captain John Sheppard looked down upon the city (what was left of it, anyway) with a sigh, scratching his scruffy beard as he did so.

"Whatcha see, Captain," he turned his head to see Major Kowalski come up, laying down atop the hill as he did so.

"I'd guess about two battalions worth of demonoids," Sheppard said with a sigh, "Along with about 1,500 or so slaves-"

"Prisoners, Captain," Kowalski corrected him.

"Prisoners," Sheppard agreed, "It looks like they're mostly just working on building weapons, some vehicles. There's something else, though. A couple hundred of them are collected together...and according to the thermal reader, they're colder than pretty much everything around them."

"...Vampires," Kowalski said in confusion and suspicion.

"That's my guess," Sheppard said, "The thing is, while they're working, some are being sent inside that large warehouse. A lotta people are coming and going from that one building."

"...Then I guess now we know what's happening to the vampire population," Kowalski said, "Radio the New England Free Zone and let them know of our status, situation, and our findings. After that, hopefully we can pack up and get the fuck-"

A sick grunt followed by the sound of something squishing echoed beside Sheppard, and the military man turned on his side, drawing his weapon even as the blood that had once belonged to Major Kowalski slid down his face from where his own head had been ripped off.

He stared up at the figure before him for a second, noting in surprise that it was a tall man(?) dressed in rags with a hockey mask on, before his training took hold and he lifted the assault rifle up to send him to Hell.

That one second, however, had cost him, as before he could fully do so, a formerly unseen machete descended down upon him, slicing off his arm. He screamed out in pain as his arm fell to the ground, the weapon getting off a few shots as it tumbled in his arm. Sheppard grunted as he began to go into shock, his face paling rapidly as he reached along his belt to withdraw his blade.

Before he could, however, the machete descended once more, and he knew no more.

Jason Voorhees stared down at the two bodies for a long moment, considering them. They meant nothing to him, even less than their fellow soldiers who laid dismembered at their base camp several hundred yards away. He looked up as he heard footsteps approaching, seeing a small detachment of demonoids coming up the hill, having been attracted by th sound of the weapon going off.

Jason lifted his machete out of the man's face, ignoring the sucking sound it made and the gushing of blood and brain matter as he moved into the darkness, lying in wait for the dead beings whom he would fully dispatch from this earth.

ҲҲҲ

Charleston, South Carolina:

"And who can tell me who discovered the many uses of the peanut?"

Out of the assembled 20 or so children, only two raised their hands. Sylvia Honey felt a swelling of pride as her own adopted daughter, Matilda, was one of those two. She shouldn't have been surprised, however, knowing full well that her daughter was one of the most well-read beings she'd ever met. The use of her cognitive skills had, interestingly, given way to her true gift: telekinesis.

In the past, Ms. Honey had hidden her child's gift, knowing full well that the outside world would not appreciate or approve of such a thing, that she would become the prized pet of some laboratory in some secret government installation, used to create things of evil like Captain Trips in _The Stand_ (interestingly, Matilda completely hated Stephen King's writings, calling him a 'talentless pervert,' a word that Matilda should never have heard as far as Ms. Honey was concerned). However, with the rise of Adam and the resulting knowledge of the otherworld due to his rise, she no longer felt the fear that she once had, knowing that she would be kept safe from Adam and evil individuals by her country's military.

However, with the rise of anti-magical bigotry spreading like wildfire, she honestly was beginning to wonder if there was anywhere that was truly safe.

The other child to raise his hand did not surprise her either. Huey Freeman was, without a doubt, the most intelligent boy she had ever met in her life. Like Matilda, he was incredibly well-read, though his own thoughts and philosophies tended to generate towards matters such as racial diversity, bigotry, and moral issues which to this day were present. Having grown up in Chicago, Huey was no stranger to bigotry or violence. He had been rescued from his home after a demonoid attack had left his neighborhood in ruins by the former rap artist Thugnificent, who had unfortunately died several weeks later. Huey's brother and grandfather, sadly, had not made it through the violence.

Like most people, he had been on the move ever since, settling down only when his caravan did so at one of the Free Zones to resupply before moving out. Huey's group, the reformed Black Panthers, had taken the boy in after they'd met him at a resupply hub in North Carolina. The modern day Black Panthers were more like a motorcycle gang than a racial reform movement as they had been in the 60s and 70s. While their membership was based primarily of African Americans, there were several white people, some Mexicans, and one or two Arabs inside the group, as their goal was not to spread the prior philosophies of the group, but to do minutemen-inspired attacks on Adam's supply trains and caravans. Recently, however, word had spread of an imminent attack on Adam's primary base in Sunnydale and troops were beginning to flow into the California Free Zone in order to begin preparing for the attack. The Panthers, feeling that the road and future battles would be too dangerous for Huey, had left him behind with Ms. Honey at her orphanage/childcare center.

"Yes, Huey," Ms. Honey said.

"A black man named George Carver," Huey said, his intense gaze focused on her.

"Nah uh," Clayton, a younger child, said, "My daddy said it was George Washington who did it!"

"His full name was _George Washington_ Carver," Matilda calmly explained before Huey could retort.

"Ah!!!" Clayton said, his young mind making the connection easily.

"Alright, kids, it's time for bed," Ms. Honey said with a smile as the clock struck 2230, "Everyone get into your beds."

Most of the children did so without any problems. One boy, however, sat where he was, stubbornly refusing to get into bed. Sighing, Ms. Honey sat down in front of him, getting level with him as she did so.

"What's wrong, Tim?"

Tim Stanton stared up at her for a long moment, the former runaway staring up at her in defiance for a long moment, before breaking down and gaining a look of sheer terror.

"Please," he whimpered quietly, mindful of not drawing more attention to himself, "Don't make me go back to sleep...he'll get me."

"Oh, honey, you just had a nightmare," Ms. Honey said soothingly, "Adam can't get to you, not here."

"No," Tim said, his voice growing, "Not Adam...not Adam....."

"...Then who, Tim," Ms. Honey asked, her concern growing.

"...Freddy."

ҲҲҲ

Ms. Honey did eventually talk the boy into trying to go to sleep. He did fall into a fitful sleep, along with the rest of the children.

Many dreams were had.

Some, like Matilda, dreamed of a world plagued by hate as dark men (as the Dark Man) or burnt men rode high, killing those of different races alike.

Some, like Huey, dreamed of those same dark men as clothed in white hoods, burning crosses as people hung from them like ripened fruit.

Some, like Clayton, dreamed of being cooked alive inside a boiling pot by the likes of a witch, dark magic running rampant as those same beings took hold of the world.

And some, like Tim, dreamed of a broken down house and a boiler room, of knives scratching on metal, and of little girls playing jump-rope...

...little girls who sang _"ONE, TWO, FREDDY'S COMING FOR YOU...."_

ҲҲҲ

California Free Zone:

"So you actually got within feet of those hounds and they left you alone?" Elliot asked in awe as she led Xander through the underground base.

"Yep," Xander said with a frown, "I guess because they sensed that I was from Hell, so they just figured I was another hound."

"Hmm," Elliot thought to herself for a moment before reaching up and slapping Xander lightly on the back of his head, "Dummy."

"I know, I'm sorry," Xander said, stopping as he did so, turning her around to face her, making a comically sad face as he did so, "Me sowwy...forgive me?"

"...Sure," Elliot said with a laugh, "But don't think you're getting off that easy. You've been a bad boy and you deserve to be punished."

With that said, Elliot turned and continued walking forward. Xander stared after her for a long moment, enjoying the view from her back.

"...That's gonna be a Helluva spanking," Xander said with a grin, before running to catch up with her.

ҲҲҲ

Amy grunted out as she sat down, visibly and audibly enjoying getting off her feet as everyone sat down at the table.

She, Aunt Erin, and Tommy had spent most of the past day preparing a very large feast in celebration of the successful move to the new base, in celebration of Xander not committing suicide (either on purpose or cause of his stupidity), in celebration of his and Elliot's new relationship, in celebration of Dave's recent promotion to Sergeant, and just because they wanted to celebrate being alive and together.

Amy was sat in the very center of the right side of the table, and was the only one sitting at the table then, so when she decided to snag a role, she figured that no one would notice.

She didn't expect to have hand reach out and slap her hand before she could grab one.

"Amy, you know you don't eat before everyone arrives," Erin Fitzpatrick said, her short blond hair glowing in the artificial light as she set down a turkey.

"Ah, c'mon, Aunt Erin," Amy said with a groan, "I've been on my feet all day, least lemme get _something_ before Dinosaur Face and the human garbage compacter arrive."

Erin stared at her for a moment before saying, "Two roles and a piece of turkey, that's it."

"Yay!" Amy 'yayed' as she dove in.

"I said ONE piece of turkey," Erin said as she went back up to their makeshift kitchen (a barbecue and portable oven), "More than one and it's your ass!"

"Ooh, Aunt Erin, what would Christopher say," Amy joked.

"He'd say 'get your teenage lesbian mind outta the gutter,'" a new masculine voice said from behind her.

Amy jumped slightly as she heard his voice, turning around to look up at her uncle. He stood at about 6'4 or so, and was dressed in a pair of jeans (with his broken leg set in a cast and a pair of crutches underneath both his arms) and one of his old t-shirts from his old hotrod company _Titus High Performance_. He stared down at her for a long moment, his abnormally large forehead shrouded only by his short blond hair.

"Well, it's not like you can say anything," Amy said up to him, "If your head's not in the gutter, it's under the hood of one of you great big penis cars."

"Hey, in case you've forgotten, one of those 'penis cars' was your 17th birthday present, so zip it Missy," Titus said back to her, groaning as he used the crutches to angle himself down into his seat at the head of the table.

"How's the leg," Amy asked, her concern for her uncle coming out.

"Hurts like a son of a bitch," Titus said with a grunt, tossing his crutches to the side as he did so, "So, have you asked that girl out yet?"

"Dinobutt, I can't just ask out the elected head of the mages," Amy said, more to herself than him, "She's Tara McClay, the White Witch, I don't even know if I'm her type."

"Why not," Titus said, "C'mon, you're single, she's single, far as I'm concerned that's all you need to know."

"Just cause they don't make restraining orders anymore doesn't mean she couldn't find some way to do so," Amy said.

"Wow, I wouldn't think you'd find the idea of being restrained by her unappealing," Titus said with a chuckle.

Amy stared at him for a second, temporarily lost in the idea of Tara licking her whilst she was in handcuffs, before coming back to the world and saying, "Christopher 'Forehead' Titus, did you just make a bondage joke?"

"What if I did," Titus said, "Ain't like there's a law against it, and it ain't like there's anyone left to enforce one."

"...Point," Amy said with a laugh.

"Ok!" she inwardly groaned as the effeminate voice of Tommy Shafter echoed out, and the man came out, dressed in his usual khaki pants and pink shirt, his perfectly combed black hair shining slightly as he walked to the table, his arms bearing large amounts of food, "Here's your Meals On Wheels," he joked as he set the food down, "The Meal That Heals."

"...Sometimes, Tommy, you scare the crap outta me," Titus said,staring up at Tommy curiously.

"Alright," Erin said as she came in, depositing the last plate of food as she did so, "Where are Dave and your friends? Shouldn't they be here by now?"

"Dave radioed a couple minutes ago," Titus said as he grabbed a paper plate from Tommy, "He said his boss wants him to finish up a couple of things before he gets off his shift at the hospital. I dunno where those other two are. Why are they coming again?"

"Cause they're Amy and Dave's friends and because Xander's had a hard time lately," Erin explained patiently.

"Bleh," Titus said, "That guy's a freak, he came in here with that Flagg asshole."

"Hey, you shouldn't judge him just because of Flagg," Amy said, standing up for Xander, "People judged you back when you hung out with those drunk assholes."

"That's cause I _was_ a drunk asshole," Titus said, "Least I'm not goin' around and claimin' I'm Jesus Hail Mary Son of God."

"Xander isn't, that's Flagg," Amy said again, "Just give him a chance, ok? Remember how things were for me when I found out I was a Slayer?"

Both Christopher and Erin remembered that time very well. It had been when the Slayer Buffy had been killed that Amy had been called. She had been in her high school gym class, sitting underneath the bleachers and making out with her then-girlfriend Charlie. While they'd been there, four girls from the popular crowd had come over and started in on them for being gay, calling them 'dykes' and 'whores' and all kinds of horrible things. Charlie, who at the time had just come out to her family and was still adjusting to not hiding her true nature, had taken it very hard and started crying.

Amy, being Amy, of course had stood up and thrown a punch at the lead girl's face. Unfortunately, that had been moments after she had been called up as a Slayer. When her fist had connected with that girl's face, she had flown ten feet into the bleachers.

Amy had been expelled from school, and after several suspensions and more than one discovery of marijuana on her person, Amy didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of getting accepted into another one.

(Un)fortunately, the war with Adam had entered the public eye shortly thereafter, so the need for school had not come up.

"You're right," Titus admitted after a moment, "I'll give him a chance."

"Well, that's good, cause he's here," Erin deadpanned.

Amy gained a wide grin as she stood up, walking over to the main entrance as she did so.

"Elliot!"

"Amy!"

The two girls hugged for a moment, happy to see each other.

"Hey, don't think I don't see you coppin' a feel off my girlfriend," Amy had to grin as Xander came inside, a smile on his features.

"Well, tell her to move her hand from my ass and we'll talk," Amy said back.

"Hey, don't blame me, it's a nice ass," Elliot said back in a sultry voice, giving Amy a spanking as she did so.

"Damn, Aims," Xander said with a grin as Amy extracted herself from Elliot's grasp and came over to give him a hug, which he happily returned, "Do you turn every girl you meet bi?"

"Nah, just the pretty blond ones," Amy joked back.

Xander extracted himself from Amy a second later as a blond woman about his own age came up to him. He had to admit, she was a pretty one, and he could tell that her significant other knew that to from the way he was telling him with his eyes 'touch her and die!'

"Erin Fitzpatrick," he shook her hand politely, "I'm Amy's aunt."

"Good to meetcha," Xander said with a lopsided grin.

"Christopher Titus," the big blond man said with more than a little bravado, ambling over as much as he could with his cast, "The uncle _and_ the husband!"

"Xander Harris," he responded, noting Titus's firm grip and responding in kind as they shook hands, "The friend _and_ the supposed Anti-Christ. Pleased to meetcha."

"Oh, please, you're not the Anti-Christ," Tommy said as he came up to him, "If anyone's the Anti-Christ, it's Flagg."

"Here here!" Amy vocalized, raising her flask as she did so.

"Tommy Shafter," the nervous man said, grasping Xander's hand as he did so with a surprisingly firm grip, "I suppose they told you about what I did with the car, and I just wanna say I am so sorry about that! It's just, with Zone commissions and certifications being necessary and what with me not knowing if you even existed, I had to follow protocols, and I know protocols don't mean squat when someone's in danger, but I just didn't know! Please don't hit me," he was damn near weeping as he said this, "Or kill me!"

"...What the fuck are you talking about," Xander asked, completely perplexed.

"Nothing!" Tommy said quickly, "Ding! Oh, wait, was that the cake?! I'll go check!!"

Xander stared after the man as he practically sprinted out the door with a speed that would make the Flash envious.

"...What the Hell was that," Xander asked.

"...We're not quite sure what that is," Titus said with a chuckle, "But it makes a Helluva turkey. C'mon, sit down, the food's goin' cold."

ҲҲҲ

Dinner with the Tituses was, without a doubt, the most fun Xander had had in quite some time. Dave had arrived ten minutes after his own arrival, while the final member of the extended Titus family, Erin's brother Michael, had arrived half an hour later, coming back from a long patrol. Michael had spent the majority of the evening talking about Flagg and how those 'Ficas' (the rapidly growing offensive slang word for 'mages,' or anyone else not considered 'normal', not unlike 'nigger' for black people and 'spick' for Mexicans) were ruining society. Any attempts from himself, Amy, Elliot, or Dave to argue back were immediately intercepted and neutralized by Erin (who was like a nuclear bomb when it came to defusing things) who also eventually convinced her brother to stop (mostly because she had grabbed and twisted his balls, an act that had made all present wince in sympathy, except for Amy of course as she had merely stared at him with a very evil look in her eyes).

Titus had spent the majority of the evening between commenting on all the things he'd heard, his work as a mechanic (the Chief Mechanic, in fact, for the CFZ), and assessing Xander and Elliot. Erin had taken a shining to Elliot immediately, trading war stories about their past loves and talking about all the gossip that was going on.

All in all, it felt disturbingly close to just a fun time with friends and family, but at the same time, not quite the same as it used to be. Of course, Xander's normal family affairs resulted in drunken slurs and more than one fist fight, so who was he to talk.

He had voiced that and found, to his surprise, that no one was a stranger to that life. While Buffy, Willow, and Cordy had never had to put up with that side of the world, Titus, Dave, Erin, and Amy had had much more than their fill, but still managed to laugh it off. Titus and Xander had, actually, got into a contest of who had the worse father. It had resulted in a tie, as Xander had nothing that could top Ken Titus sinking a houseboat and setting it ablaze while their family had been on it, but Titus had nothing that could top Anthony Harris attempting to sell Xander to a buncha Armenians.

After dinner, the family except for Xander, Dave, and Titus had gone into what served as the living room in their little section of their underground base, watching movies on a television while they had gone for a long walk.

"Y'know what I miss," Dave said as they slowly walked on, "I miss just goin' to concerts. You can't have those anymore, not with how well connected Adam is."

"I know, man," Titus said with a sigh, "Hey, d'you remember that Metallica concert we went to back in '92?"

"Oh, yeah," Dave remembered with a grin, "I was so high! And you were too!!"

"Yep," Titus laughed, "And when James Hetfield started singing _Master of Puppets_, I got up onto the guardrails and tried to surf the crowd, but they just moved aside and let me fall."

"I only went to one Metallica concert," Xander said with smile, "It was the last month of my freshman year of high school, they were in Los Angeles and my friend Willow's parents won tickets in a contest. They gave them to us and we had a freaking awesome time, man. I remember Jesse tried to make it with the girl sitting next to us, while I tried to find out where Metallica was gonna have their after party at. Didn't get in, but hey, I tried."

"Hey, ya gotta try," Titus agreed with a laugh, "So Xander, I'm just gonna be honest with you here. I didn't like you before this."

"I figured," Xander said, his mood dampening slightly, "Cause of Flagg?"

"Yep, cause of Fagg," Titus agreed, chuckling at his ad lib, "But, after meeting you, I can see why both Amy and Dave like you. And, well, you're starting to grow on me too. So I just wanted to say that I'm sorry and I wanna put that behind us."

Titus stuck out his hand, and Xander, with very little hesitation, grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake.

"No problem," Xander said with a smirk.

A third hand landed on top of theirs, and the two looked over at Dave who had a surprisingly serious look on his face.

"The Three Musketeers," Dave said seriously.

"...VR Troopers," Xander returned questioningly.

"No, there were five of them," Titus said.

"Nah, there were only three, Power Rangers had five," Dave corrected.

"Oh, right," Titus said, thinking for a moment, before saying loudly, "Degeneration X!"

"...Who's Chyna," Dave asked.

Xander and Titus shared a look for a moment, before turning to him and saying simultaneously "You!"

ҲҲҲ

Randall Flagg smiled to himself as he opened up his tent, holding the flap open as the young lady who had served as the night's entertainment crawled out, a thoroughly satisfied and far-off look on her face as she did so. He caught her as she made to leave, leaving her weak in the knees as he captured her lips with his own.

As he ended the kiss, he looked into her eyes, smiling, and said, "Mmmmm. Cum-cum-commala, indeed."

"That was...wow...I mean," the girl couldn't quite formulate a sentence at the moment, not that Flagg really cared to hear what she had to say as it was.

"You, too," Flagg grinned, "That thing you did with your tongue was masterful. Now, run along young Sabrina, you've a long day tomorrow."

"Ah," the blond's eyes seemed to glaze for a moment, before coming back to herself and, smiling shyly at him, saying, "Goodnight, dear Flagg, mine Dinh. Long days and pleasant nights."

"And may you have twice the number," Flagg replied, smiling as the teenage witch took off, and as he entered his tent, closing it up, he chuckled and said, "That gilly was magical."

He sat down on his mattress, pausing for a moment of reflection. The terms 'dinh' and 'dash-dinh' were growing in the ever-growing circles of those who called themselves followers of the true Messiah (his own ka-tet, or at least an-tet). They were the official terms for Randall Flagg himself, as dinh meant 'leader,' 'king' or 'father,' and to them he was rapidly becoming all three.

Dash-dinh, however, held a slightly different meaning. A dash-dinh was all three things, but the 'dash' indicated that he was the leader of a religion. While he supposed in some ways he was, he didn't believe he truly was. If anything, he was the idol they worshiped, not the leader.

Sighing happily to himself, pleased with the successes of the day, he set to work on his latest endeavor in his goal to make this world his own. Jason was doing his work splendidly, as he had just begun systematically slaughtering a work camp filled with demonoids and normal people, while setting the mages off to the side to await Flagg's arrival upon his full 'liberation' of the camp. This would be the third such camp that Jason has destroyed, releasing a total of 793 mages to his command. Fortunately, by setting the mages aside towards where they couldn't see, it was easy for Jason to dispatch the norms without them seeing, though a few would notice and have to be quietly dispatched so as to ensure they would not poison the whole.

Freddy had set to his task with a gusto that Flagg could not believe. After Flagg had teleported the serial killer's body into the Hellmouth, the Master of Dreams had set to work, killing off non-magical children by the dozens as his influence now reached into parts of Canada and Mexico. The rest he would give dreams of oppression to, using everything from the Salem Witch Trials to Nazi Germany at his disposal to increase feelings of unease amongst the population. He would do the same to parents wherever he chose, enjoying the power he now had at his disposal like he never had before.

Rachel had come to him after the little tiff she'd had with that soldier. He had feigned being very angry, but in a sad way so as to depict being saddened by such anger but appropriately angry as well. In reality, though, he wanted to kiss that soldier. Thanks to that event, two things were happening. Word was spreading on both sides of the country that a fight over magic had barely been quelled, so peoples' tensions were growing. And, in something that Flagg had not considered before, a very important step ha occurred towards finally completing the schism between those of nonmagical and magical nature: a hate word had entered the vocabulary of the people. Malefica, an old Latin term that meant 'bad magic user,' or 'bad witch,' had been used before during the Dark Ages by the Catholic Church. It was a word that invoked memories of hatred, violence, and oppression inside his chosen people, and he could not have been more pleased with it. Its use was spreading, not as rapidly as he would like, but rapidly enough towards where he truly believed it would become widespread before Adam's fall.

Janitor, meanwhile, had come up with an invention that Flagg truly loved. It was a variation of his strap idea (in which a person could be strapped onto a mage capable of flight and ride along, dropping grenades or parachuting into a drop point), only instead of them merely parachuting in, they would have a compactable hang glider which they could deploy once airborne and fly alongside the witches, dropping off supplies such as ammo, dropping grenades on enemies, or gathering intelligence on an area, or even to quickly get past enemy lines. All in all, Flagg was quite happy that he'd found that bored Janitor, as he was proving to be an invaluable source of ideas that Flagg had every intention on implementing once he came to power and made war on the normals.

Smiling to himself, he noted however that while things were going smoothly, he might have to ease up a bit on the overall plan. He had no doubt that eventually tensions would reach a breaking point, in fact it was paramount to his plans, but timing was even more important. It would not do for the point of no return to occur before Adam had been dispatched, it would take away from the overall goal. However, he knew that he had to keep pressure up, as if he eased up too much, he would have to wait for the celebrations of Adam's demise to end before he could complete it, and if he had to wait that long, it would most likely take him months to build tensions back up to that point, and those would be months in which Xander would definitely try to stop him as their agreement would come to an end. For now, Xander NEEDED Flagg in order to defeat Adam, and while Flagg wasn't sure if he needed Xander, he was certain that Xander HAD to stay around for the time being.

Sighing, he leaned back onto his mattress, preparing himself for a good night's sleep. Before he'd even allowed his head to hit the mattress, he felt something that terrified him as nothing else could. He felt a pain, a fear, a blow as light filled his eye, echoing throughout his mind as one single fact became very clear to him.

The room at the top of the Can Calyx, the Dark Tower, had emptied, if only for a moment, and the God (Jehovah, say thankee sai) had come down to this Earth.


	21. The Arcadians

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Jason Voorhees moved quietly along the road, in pursuit of his final victim for the night's work. The magical prisoners had been released, though housed inside a 'safe place' to await Flagg's presence in the morning. All that was left for Voorhees to accomplish was the dispatching of the last demonoid, a former soldier of the Initiative named Graham.

He knew that his last victim was going for a small plane, that he would attempt to reach Sunnydale and inform his master about the fall of his camp. Voorhees knew that it would not matter at all if he should succeed, but all the same, Jason had no intent on allowing him to escape his blade.

The mass killer had a high body count, over 10,000 dead in his abnormally long lifetime, and he would gain at least one more before the night was ended.

The huge 'man' lifted up his latest weapon, and waited for a long moment, watching with a keen eye for his prey. The jeep housing the Graham demonoid passed by him moments later and, at the exact right time, Voorhees used all of his considerable strength to throw the weapon.

The dead deer struck the jeep upon the engine, rolling into the actual vehicle as it did so, driving its horns into the demonoid's body. The vehicle came to an abrupt stop, but the deer did not, taking a large chunk of the demonoid and more than a small amount of the vehicle with it as it continued to roll.

Jason walked calmly down the hill, not bothering to rush as the demonoid struggled to get out. Eventually, though, it did escape the jeep, just in time to see Jason walk out from the bushes, machete in hand and that dead look of murder inside his eyes (as they always were). Graham raised his arm up, holding an AK-47 inside his hand, and began to shoot it off. Jason slowed to a stop as his body was marauded by bullets, but he did not fall.

The Kalashnikov emptied quickly, and the demonoid had no choice but to abandon his weapon and attempt an escape on foot. Jason stared after him for a long moment, before walking along after him. While Graham was still fairly quick in step, even after all his injuries, Jason moved at a supernaturally quick pace even as he appeared to be merely ambling about, easily gaining on the demonoid.

Eventually, Graham reached the small aircraft. He grunted as he tripped over an unseen log and, mindful of his pursuer, quickly returned to his feet. He reached out, his hand coming to rest on the door handle, already in the process of turning it to gain entry into the aircraft...

...only to be impeded as the blade of a machete flowed through the air, slicing through human and demonic flesh, metal, and bone as it tore his arm off, sending the demonoid down to the ground.

Graham clutched his hand to his chest, now painfully aware that these would be his last moments on Earth. As Jason walked up to him, hovering over him as a dark spectre of death, Graham decided that he would make his last moment meaningful.

"Y'know," the demonoid said, causing Jason to stop for a moment out of curiosity, "It's never easy, serving a master. I believe in Adam, believe in his cause, and in his purpose, but...it's so hard carrying out his will, knowing that before he had taken me, I never would have even considered it."

Jason, in a very odd flash of pure rage, lashed out with his weapon, slicing straight into Graham's head and sending him from that plain of existence. That was not enough for Jason, though, as his anger took over. Again and again he plunged the blade in, blood soaked tears flowing freely from the metal onto the ground, Voorhees's clothing, and his mask, covering him with the spoils of his inhuman rage.

"Y'know, I think you can stop," Jason came to an abrupt halt in his actions, turning immediately to face his......master, who was smiling at him, though the smile did not quite reach his eyes, "He's dead...deader than a doornail, as they say."

Jason walked toward Flagg, momentarily lost in the desire to inflict harm on the man, before he felt the familiar pain that came with encroaching upon his magical shield.

"Whoa, easy boy," Flagg grinned at him, "Don't forget who you work for."

Jason stared at him, but slowly, his body lost its tension.

"Good," Flagg said with a chuckle, "Nice kill, by the way. And, I do believe it is time for a reward."

Flagg reached forward, and Jason checked his desires to back away and to kill him simultaneously, remaining as he was while Flagg laid his hand on his chest.

Jason shook in sheer pain as Flagg's energy entered his body, mind, and soul. He felt something begin to grow...atop his head, an itching sensation that Jason had never felt before. He could feel his body itching as well, not quite writhing as it had when Flagg had remade him totally, but the sensation was completely foreign and...pleasantly painful to him.

Finally, it came to an end. Jason felt the same in terms of his mental state, as he could reason the same (which, is to say, meant that he knew how to perform basic tasks and some complex ones that came naturally with his way of growing up in the woods of Crystal Lake) and also felt the same rage that he had felt since he'd discovered that his mother had died. His curiosity was abated when Flagg conjured up a full-length mirror, presenting Jason with his reward.

His skin had gained pigmentation, to the point where he could actually see that he had been white before his death. The amount of decay on his body had decreased as well, even though there was still a substantial amount of rot. The most noticeable thing, however, was the dark material that was falling down the top of his head and bordering his shoulders.

He had hair now.

Flagg interrupted his musings, tossing the mirror aside and saying, "You can look at yourself later. Right now, I have a mission for you."

Flagg reached up to Voorhees, who once more resisted both urgings, and pointed his two fingers at Jason's eyes. Jason felt an intense heat behind his skull for a short moment, and then it disappeared, having momentarily turned his eyes a white color before fading away.

"There," Flagg said with a smile, turning his back to him as he did so, "Now, Jason, I have a mission for you. I'm sending you on an errand. I need you to kill someone, and I don't know who they are. My sight cannot reach that far. However, you shall know them when you see them. They shall have a glowing white aura about them. They need to be dead before the end of the night."

Jason inclined his head slightly, looking pointedly up at the night sky.

"I know, I know, not a lot of time," Flagg said with a smirk, "But I have every confidence in you.

"Now...you are going to Arcadia."

ҲҲҲ

CFZ:

Xander sat down at the base of an opening in the cave system, which revealed the area of the artificial oasis that had been selected as the vehicle storage area. He had no choice but to admire the sheer number of vehicles down there, and idly wondered if he could requisition one of the Jaguars.

"Nice, isn't it," he looked over to his right as Titus eased himself against the window-like structure, leaning over to look out at it as Xander was sat on the ledge, legs dangling in the air.

"Very," Xander agreed, "I want that Jaguar," Xander said, pointing to the '75 black vehicle.

"Nice," Titus agreed as Dave came up to them, pouring some marijuana into his pipe as he did so, "Y'know, some of those down there are mine."

"Oh, here we go," Dave muttered to himself as he lit the pipe, inhaling as he pointedly ignored Titus's finger.

"Really," Xander asked, amazed as he took the pipe from Dave as he coughed up a lung, "Which one?"

"See those six right there," Titus said, indicating two Lexus's, a Mustang, a Charger, a Hummer, and a Lamborghini.

Xander coughed out loudly, partially due to the weed, but more so out of shock upon seeing those vehicles.

"All those are YOURS?!" Xander asked.

"I remember once," Titus said as he lit the pipe, "The _Los Angeles Times _reported that over 63 percent of the average American households are now considered dysfunctional. And that was back before the war," Titus lit the pipe and took a large hit from it, inhaling air as he did so, then eased it out of his system to say, "I said to myself, 'good. That means we're the majority, we're normal. That means that when Armageddon comes, 37 percent of the world will lose their fuckin' minds. Us 63 percent will pause, take a drink, smoke a joint, and then say 'HEY! There's no one watchin' the Lexus dealership.''"

Xander laughed at that, enjoying yet another great laugh, the latest in a great many he'd had in that day alone.

Titus and Dave both shared a laugh at that, both having heard and told that joke (true as it was) many times, but they enjoyed hearing Xander laugh at it all the same.

"Damn, Dave, that's some kickass weed," Titus said with a grin as he passed on the pipe, "When're you tripping out to see your supplier?"

"Sometime next week," Dave said with a chuckle, refilling the pipe as he did so, "Saul's working on a new concoction, mixing in some Pineapple Express with some Purple Haze with a dash of magically enhanced Hydro. Jay and Bob actually came up with a great idea about growing it in magically enhanced dirt, I dunno what spells they'd use, but it sounds like it'd be a really good idea."

"Who are up at that place," Titus asked out of curiosity.

"Oh, the farm?" Titus nodded, "There's Ted Jones, Carla, Saul, Red, Dale Denton, he runs the FZRA station in that area, Jay and Silent Bob, along with a few soldiers and bikers that live in the barn. It's kinda a hub station for travelers, they can buy guns, ammo, weed, anything they have to sell or barter for."

"Maybe we should move out there once this is done," Titus suggested.

"I'd love to," Dave said with a grin, "Saul told me he's thinking about taking a trip up to some place called Crystal Lake, he heard a rumor that there's several miles worth of wild growing pot out there that can be harvested."

Xander smiled to himself. Only at the end of the world could such things be discussed in the open. Still, things could be worse, he figured.

At least things were peaceful where they were. In some places...

ҲҲҲ

...it was pure Hell on Earth.

Arcadia.

The once lush city had been reduced to a shriveled version of its former glory (gory). Buildings lay in disrepair, ruin, simply collapsed on the ground. Here was a true vision of the post-apocalyptic war, a true necropolis. Dead bodies littered the ground, both human and not, some burning in the fires, others left to fester and rot. And others still lingering, moaning in pain as life would not escape their bodies without a terrible fight.

The city was under siege. Demonoids lead the charge, officers to the ones on the front lines, the Hellhounds, the bats, with some larger creatures at their disposal as well. Arcadia was on the front lines for the New England Free Zone, the place where Adam's forces had begun hitting repeatedly since the beginning of the year.

In the rubble, the siege, lay the key to it all.

ҲҲҲ

The young man moved quickly, running for all that he was worth as his pursuers gained on him. Hellhounds, two of them, leaped over discarded dead and dying alike, salivating at the idea of this fresh meal.

The young man ran fast, clutching his Kalashnikov tightly, ignoring the chaffing in his worn-out black BDUs and the painful sensation of his combat boots rubbing and stabbing at his foot. He could hear the pounding of the two Hellhounds behind him, echoing along the long stone hallway as he ran. He turned a sharp right, seemingly throwing them off his trail, but they easily managed to turn and continue their pursuit.

The young man saw a large piece of rubble up ahead, quickly deciding what to do about it as he saw that it was blocking his path. He gripped his weapon tight, hearing the sounds of the hounds of Hell swiftly catching up with him and, in a last great burst of adrenaline, leaped on top of the stone and did a running jump off of it, flying 6 or 7 feet to safety as he did so.

The hounds, only a few steps behind, attempted to simply leap over the large stone...only to be met by a lowered metallic netting, catching them hard as they flew into it. The hounds should in pain as they were electrified by the net, before mercifully being knocked unconscious as two tranquilizer darts flew into their bodies.

The young man sat up, panting out as he did so, and pulled off his ski mask, revealing himself to be an unshaven young man with black hair and a small scar on his left cheek.

"Next time, someone else can be the bait," he said with a gasp, slowly coming to his feet as he did so, "I need to work out more."

"Oh, chill out, Rove," a sarcastic feminine voice echoed out, drawing his attention to the two black-clad people coming out of hiding from their positions on the second floor where they had lowered the net, "It's not like you're dead, just exhausted. But yeah, you need to work out more, I could hear you huffing and puffing a mile away, fatass."

Adam Rove rolled his eyes, smiling as Grace Polk playfully picked on him. That smile grew even more as the other black figure came down, taking off her ski mask as well, her own smile warming his heart.

"I don't agree with you on the fatass deal, Grace," Joan Girardi said with a laugh, "But I do agree, next time, someone else is bait...in fact, from now on, no Adam as bait!"

"Oh, show some sympathy," Grace said with a smirk, "It's not like you're the only thing around here that thinks Adam's so good and tasty...of course, they mostly just wanna eat his brains, but still, tasty."

"You think...brains are tasty," Adam asked her.

"I...no! No, I was just-" Grace tried to backpedal, but stopped abruptly as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and a pair of lips kissed her neck.

"Let 'em have this one," Luke Girardi said with a grin, which multiplied as Grace placed her hand on his own and pouted.

"That was the best one yet," Joan congratulated as she put an arm around Adam's waist, pulling him close, "And your aim's improving, Luke."

"Eh, what can I say," Luke grinned, "All those years learning how to split the atom really honed my marksmanship."

Joan rolled her eyes before turning her attention to the two unconscious beasts, saying, "Are they dead?"

"Nah,"Adam said, "They're alive."

"We'd better go ahead and start carting them back to base," Grace said snarkily as she pulled out her radio, "Wheels, this is...Sunshine," she practically growled out, "Come in."

"Wheels here," Joan momentarily smiled, pleased to hear her big brother's voice.

"Did I mention how much I hate that name," Grace griped into the radio.

"Imagine how I feel about mine," Kevin Girardi said with a laugh, "What's your status? Do you have the precious cargo?"

"Status is five-by-five, we are inbound with precious cargo," Grace said as Joan and Adam wrapped up the two Hellhounds while Luke stood guard, "Link up in three minutes."

"Roger, out."

Adam and Luke dragged the two bodies outside of the former Arcadia High School, with Joan and Grace keeping watch with their weapons at the ready. As they reached the outside, a long ATV with a trailer attached to it pulled up. The man sitting on it was dressed in black BDUs as they were, and as he took his hands off the handles, he pulled up an Uzi and kept watch, but smiled at them as they came up.

"Hey, guys," Kevin greeted them, "Whoo, two! Nice job."

"We try," Joan deadpanned as she came up and sat behind her brother, back-to-back as she manned the M2 attached to the back of the ATV while Luke and Adam loaded up the bodies.

"Shit," Kevin shouted out, "We gotta jet, guys!"

Joan chanced a look behind her, and saw the seven or more Hellhounds that was causing her big brother worry.

Wordlessly, the three finished their work and piled into the trailer, and Kevin shot out a couple of rounds from his Uzi before starting up the ATV and pulling out as quickly as he could. Joan shot off a few rounds from the M2 as they got underway, taking out two hounds with them. Quickly, they were on the streets of Arcadia with the hounds fading in the distance as they headed for base.

ҲҲҲ

Will Girardi was no happy man, and had not been in several years.

During the early 2000s, he and his family had lived in blissful ignorance of the world at large. Even when Adam had started his campaign, they had all thought the military would put a quick and decisive end to it.

They hadn't.

Adam's reign of terror had started slowly, but quickly, it had snowballed into something more. Will remembered very well the day Washington DC had fallen, the day the Hellhounds had shown up, the first strikes against Arcadia...the day his wife had been taken from him.

Oh, by far and large, Will had been spared many hardships during the war. While his wife had been lost during the early days of the assault on Arcadia, none of his children had died, and to him that was nothing short of a miracle, one of which Will Girardi thanked God for every day.

The former Chief of Police had learned very quickly that there truly are no atheists in foxholes. Especially after his daughter had introduced him to the one and only Alpha and Omega. To think, his daughter used to talk to God all the time, and still did on rare occasions.

At first, he had been angry at God, to the point where he'd actually attempted to assault the Deity. He had failed, of course, but after that meeting, God had opened Will's eyes to certain facts that he could not deny.

Free will was existent, and always had been. The travesty that was occurring all over the world was not a plague sent down by God as punishment, nor was his wife being taken from him...it was all the result of free will, the choice to create a thing like Adam, and God, as much as He wanted to, could not take it away from them no more than Will could have taken Kevin's handicap from him. When God swore, He really meant it.

In the end, that had been what it took to make Will come around to the notion of God...the fact that they were both fathers, only God had the honor of playing Father to the whole world.

As he walked into his office for the briefing, however, Will put aside his relationships with the four people waiting for him. Only two were his actual children, but he loved the other two as though they were his own as well. However, this was neither the time nor the place for familial relationships...this was the time for professionalism.

"At ease," Will Girardi, commanding officer for the Arcadia Free Zone, said as he took a seat behind the desk in what had been his office as police chief, "I understand we now have two hostiles to examine. Well done."

"Thank you, Sir," all four echoed out at once.

"Now...go get some downtime," Will ordered with a smile.

"Yes, Sir," all four said with grins.

ҲҲҲ

Joan laughed to herself as she go up from her cot, leaving Adam, Luke, and Grace to joke around some more as she went to get herself some more rations. She knew that things were bad, but to just be around her best friends was a blessing every day. It was, like, they were destined to stay together or something.

She honestly had no idea what she would do if she were to lose even one of her friends.

Sighing to herself, she knew she shouldn't act as though they had been her only friends. Glynis had died after being called up to serve in Washington, as a member of their effort to improve upon the nuclear bomb. Her airplane had been shot down.

Friedman had been rounded up during the first attack, placed into one of Adam's slave camps somewhere. Grace had not taken it well, knowing that Friedman was suffering in much the same fashion as their people had during World War II.

She allowed herself a brief moment of weakness in which she remembered her mother, bringing a small tear to her eye as she did so.

"Here," she heard a voice to her left say, "Drink this."

She nodded in thanks, accepting the cup of water and taking a long drink from it, before looking up to see the man before her.

"You," she said in a mixture of surprise and indignation.

"Hey, Joan," the cute man in a brown coat said with a small smile.

"So, I hafta ask," Joan started without preamble, "I heard that the Messiah was here, somewhere in California. Is that true?"

Ordinarily, when she asked God a question, she did not get an answer or, at best, an answer that she couldn't understand. When God answered, though, she received quite a shock.

"Randall Flagg is not the Messiah," God said, His face shrouded in shadow as anger overtook His features, causing Joan to take a step back, "He is...something else."

"Randall Flagg," Joan asked, not having heard the name before, "Is he the devil, or, um, the Antichrist?"

"He is not," God said, His features returning to normal, "He is a rat, nothing more. His presence here, however, is changing things, which brings us to what I will ask you to do."

"Oh, joy, another assignment," Joan griped with a frown, "What've ya got for me?"

"Two things," God said simply, "First, go to 717 Laurens Street, and go inside the building. You will need to look fast, though. And when you find it, do not let it do the holding."

"Great," Joan said, "We supposed to find something. Any idea what?"

"You'll know," God said, "Then, when you meet him, remember that Xander is to be trusted, not Flagg."

"Wait, we're going to meet Flagg," Joan asked in surprise, "But we're in Arcadia!"

"Go, Joan," God said, turning away from her as He did so, "Your time's running out."

God waved at her without looking at her as He walked on, turning a corner and escaping her site. Joan stared after the Deity for a long moment, before turning around and running for her friends.

Had she pursued Him, she might have seen the visage of the young man in the brown coat fade away, revealing an older man dressed in a suit with wings on.

"How'd it go," Metatron turned to face Rufus, who had accompanied him on his mission.

"Oh, swimmingly," Metatron said as they began walking, "The Lord informed Mrs. Rove about her new assignment thru me, and she's off to accomplish it."

"Yeah, well, we got a problem," Rufus said, "When God flowed down from Heaven into you, Flagg noticed it. He's sent Jason to find and kill them."

"Flagg would not have felt it without God intending for him to," Metatron explained without much thought, "Much is happening tonight, Apostle. It is not for us to question His will, merely to enforce it."

Rufus laughed at that, saying, "Theirs is not to reason why, but to do and to die."

ҲҲҲ

Highway in Florida:

A lone station wagon flew down the deserted highway. Loud music echoed out from the stereos, making the abnormally quiet highway alive in music. A solitary man sat in the driver's seat, hands and feet pounding along with the beat as he smoked a cigar.

"_Ah, she's a brick...house!!! Well, she's the one, the only one, built like an Amazon! _WOW!!" Jules Winfield belted out, enjoying the sounds as he took a long puff from his cigar.

He was about to come to his next stop on his road, the long road that he had been traveling since that fateful day in 1994 when he had been saved from an errant bullet along with his former partner Vincent Vega. Unlike his former partner, who had died at the hands of a boxer named Butch shortly thereafter, Jules had heard God's message loud and clear and given up the life. Ever since then, he had traveled the earth, helping out when and where he could.

This night, he was going to Miami, where he would chill out for a few days before moving on, helping out the Free Zone as much as he could.

"Ow, motherfucker!" Jules shouted out as his cigar burnt down suddenly, burning his hand as it did so. Due to his surprise, Jules lost control of the vehicle and fell off the road and into the ditch by the highway.

"Damn it!" Jules shouted out as he hit the wheel out of anger, before sighing and looking up to the sky, saying, "Why, Lord?"

He sighed, leaning back in his seat for a moment to adjust to his new circumstance. He blinked as a light began to fill his eyes, not sure what it was for a long moment. Finally, sense returned to him as he realized that it must be another car. Jules quickly got up, not without grabbing his trusty .45, and exited the car, heading up to the highway and waving his arms to attract the car's attention.

"HEY!!" Jules shouted, "OVER HERE!!!"

The light did not stop, nor slow down...in fact, Jules could not even hear the roar of a motor.

Realizing very quickly that he was not dealing with a car, he reached back and pulled out his pistol, aiming it into the dark.

"Motherfucker, you'd best stop and think now before you fuck with this negro," Jules shouted, pulling back on the hammer as he did so.

Then, the light reached him.

"My Lord..."


	22. The Fall of Arcadia

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

"Joan, why in the Hell would we need to go out this late?" Grace was not pleased at all with this notion of going to some previously unknown address for some inane reason that neither Joan nor her father would share with her.

While none of the three knew about Joan's relationship with the Almighty, they did know that she would on occasion go off on flights of fancy which somehow or another wound up helping them all out for the better. Lately, though, her flights of fancy had yielded some very interesting results, including some miscellaneous magical items that had served them well during the war, as well as several incidents that had led them away from an outpost that had fallen to attack or out of the path of roaming Hellhounds.

However, this time, in spite of the support of the Arcadian Free Zone commander, Grace could not consciously shake that feeling of dread. Something was going to happen tonight, something she was quite sure she would come to a head...death was in the air.

"Because there's something we need to do here," Joan replied, her gaze intense as she surveyed the area.

The had reached the house with an ease that made all four uneasy. It was a run-down two story home that looked as though it had been uninhabited since before the siege. All the doors and windows were broken, and while there was no sign of battle on it, it was quite possible that something of an evil nature had made its home in the house.

Joan held up her fist, causing all four to stop. She held it for a moment, examining the area with her eyes, before indicating that it was safe to go on. They moved quickly, but quietly, and surrounded the door, two on each side. Joan, taking point, held up three fingers and began counting down. When the final finger dropped, she moved quickly, kicking in the door, and aimed her weapon into the house, followed half a second later by her three compatriots.

Finding nothing in their path, the four began to explore the house with the caution of experts and the ease of professionals.

ҲҲҲ

Jason Voorhees might have missed them had he not ran across a patrol just half a block away. The patrol, consisting of 3 armed men on a golf cart, had mistaken him for a vagabond at first due to his rags, and had come up to him, attempting to find out where he had come from. Their questions had come to a stop quickly as they smelled the horrible rot that came off his body, and the three had leveled their weapons against him.

The first had fallen immediately, his M-16 shoved unceremoniously thru his torso. The other two began to fire on him, but his machete made short work of the nearest one. The final patrolman had attempted a hasty retreat, climbing into the golf cart as fast as he could. He managed to get 19 feet away from him when the machete had pierced his neck

As Jason had walked over to retrieve his weapon, his eyes had caught a glimpse of flashing white. After calmly ripping the man's head off to claim his machete, Voorhees had walked over towards the white flash.

He saw the four go into the house, with the one in the lead shrouded in the white aura. Jason stared after her for a long moment, then began his menacing hunt for the girl who spoke to God.

ҲҲҲ

"This house is clear," Rove announced as the four met back up in the living room, "So...what are we looking for?"

"No idea," Joan said softly, her head pounding with a terrifying mixture of fear and excitement as a sensation drew her towards the second floor, "Follow me."

"Joan," Grace sounded scared and anxious as she spoke, clearly wanting to get out of the house, "What are we doing here? We need to go, now!"

"Not yet," Joan intoned, her voice brokering no argument, "Follow me."

Adam, Grace, and Luke shared a look, each knowing that they would not be allowed to leave until she had found what she was looking for.

"Rove, you stay on the steps," Grace issued, her militaristic nature taking over, "Girardi, you stay in the upstairs hallway where you can see him and be able to see us. I'm going after our wayward girl."

Adam and Luke nodded, and each moved to take their positions as Grace followed Joan up to the second floor.

Joan moved with a slow nature, as though she were not fully in control of her actions. Grace followed her carefully, very concerned for her best friend.

The young prophet walked into the master bedroom, which held nothing but wooden boxes. She felt as though she was not even really there, as though she were in a dream rather than in real life. To Joan, it was nothing short of bliss...it felt so nice to finally let go, to let the world take her as it would.

She walked up to the highest box, a small wooden box with an interesting sigul on its top: a revolver atop a keyhole, with a rose interwoven inside it.

She reached forward, opening the box with an eagerness that completely circumvented her training and common sense.

Inside, resting in deceptive comfort, sat a black orb.

Joan stared at it in marvel, feeling its pull as she unknowingly reached out for it.

"Joan," Grace called out, rushing forward, "Joan, stop!"

Grace reached out, taking Joan's hands in her own, ceasing her drive for the orb. At once, the young prophet came out of her spell, shaking her head around as though lost.

"What is with you, Girardi," Grace demanded, "You act like there's some kinda hold on you."

Joan shook her head once more, now in disgust with herself as the warning came back to her. _'And when you find it, do not let it do the holding,'_ God had said. And she had ignored the warning, and nearly lost herself to this thing which she felt certain held some great and dark power.

"...I'm ok," Joan whispered, moreso to herself than Grace, "I'm fine. We got what we came for. Let's get the Hell outta here."

Joan closed the box and picked it up, staring at it momentarily, lost in what had just occurred...when the sound of a blade and a cry of pain echoed in the hall.

ҲҲҲ

Adam sat atop the staircase, his weathered eyes focused upon the doorway and windows before him. Like his friends, he had seen his fair share of war, and was to a point even used to it. However, he could never get used to the little things that came with war. Playing bait, firefights, even the occasional death he could live with, after all, such things had been a part of his life before the war.

It was the little changes in how people saw him and his friends that got him the most. Beforehand, they had been outcasts, the lepers of their society. Then, Adam arrived, and everything changed.

He and Joan had gotten married a few years back, to the great joy and support of her father and his own as well. Luke and Grace were not formally married, as Grace found the institute of marriage to be, quote, 'a fucking ridiculous joke.' Yet, everyone still called them 'Mr. And Mrs. Polk,' much to Luke's chagrin.

Even moreso, however, was the amount of respect he was allotted. People that would have scorned him just a decade ago now paid rapt attention to what he had to say. It was a change that he simply could not get used to, not after so many years of disrespect by his peers in school and his teachers.

Sighing to himself, putting those thoughts out of mind, he came to his feet upon the stairs, preparing to do a quick sweep of the front area...until a blade plowed through the wooden staircase beneath his feet, cutting straight through his foot, barely missing his actual leg and cutting through a great portion of his right foot.

"FUCK," he shouted out in pain as he fell to the stairs in a sitting position, pulling his weapon up as he did so.

He unloaded a barrage of bullets at the staircase beneath him, intending on making whatever it was that had attacked him pay. Luke shouted out above him, asking what had happened, and as Adam looked up to shout out, the blade reached out again, slicing deep into Adam's palm, slicing off the top portion of his hand and all his fingers, save for the thumb.

"JESUS," Luke blasphemed as he leveled his weapon, shooting directly beneath Adam into the staircase.

Beneath the stairwell, Jason Voorhees felt his body rattle underneath the fire. Under normal circumstances, the undead murderer would not even consider this to be an issue. However, by luck or some form of divine intervention, a bullet managed to find its way into his eye, blinding him, causing him to miss his next slash upward, one that would have sliced Adam's heart in two, but which flowed through the wood and air harmlessly, allowing Luke enough time to run down and effortlessly lift Adam to the safety of the second floor balcony.

"What's happening," Joan shouted, she and Grace running out to see what was going on, "OH MY GOD," she tossed her weapon away without a moment's thought as she grabbed hold of Adam, pulling him close to her.

"There's something under the stairs," Luke explained as Grace checked him over for wounds, "It got Adam pretty bad."

"Crap," Grace whispered, drawing all their gazes, and they saw that she was staring at the staircase...where a large machete had begun carving its way through the wood, attempting to loosen it enough to allow their would-be killer entrance to finish them off.

"...Come on," Joan whispered, guiding Adam back towards the room, "We have to go! We have to go now!"

"Go," Grace asked in disbelief, "Go where?! We should stay and fight!!!"

"No," Joan said with conviction, "Look...we need to get to safety!"

"And your idea of safety is a room with no exit?!" Grace demanded.

"Just...trust me," Joan begged, even as a large portion of the stairs came up.

"...Fine, Girardi," Grace said with fire in her eyes, "But after this, you owe us one Hell of an explanation!"

Joan nodded, knowing above all else that that was true. She and Luke dragged Adam into the room, even as Grace launched a barrage of shots into the form of Jason, who had freed himself from below the stairs and was slowly making his way up. Grace quickly got into the room, shutting the door behind her.

Joan opened the box again, this time knowing full-well what she was doing. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment and praying to God for help, and reached out to grasp the orb, her mind flashing thru memories of the night, coming to a rest momentarily on the information that Randall Flagg was in California.

As Jason forced the door open, machete in hand, ready to finish his business in Arcadia...he found nothing but an empty room.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Jason stiffened, knowing full-well who it was that was behind him, "Well, shucks...ain't that the damnedest thing."

Jason slowly turning around, coming face-to-face with his...master, Jason admitted to himself. The jean-clad man was smiling, but it was obvious that he was anything but happy...he was enraged...and that smile on his face meant only one thing.

Someone was suffering...and Jason had a funny feeling that it would be him shortly.

"Son," Flagg walked into the room, his cowboy boots slamming down on the wooded floor like thunderclaps, "I gave you a simple assignment, one that I could not do because I could not see the prophet with my eyes, and you failed..." Flagg reached up, grasping Jason by the head, and cradling him in a false sense of comfort, "That just won't do."

Jason flew through the wall, onto the street, more than 30 feet before the ground forced him to a stop. Jason did not moan, nor did he rise immediately. When he did, that sharp cowboy boot came down upon his chest, holding him still.

"A penance is due," Flagg said with a sickly smile, and once more, Jason felt fear as he never had before.

In a flash, Flagg was gone...but Jason knew, somehow, what he had done.

The murderer rose to his feet, scrambling for the nearest window, and looked into it, ripping off his mask as he did so.

His face...it was back...back to its horrible rot...he was as he had been before meeting Flagg.

Jason Voorhees felt despair in that moment, and that desperation gave way to anger...a much more useful emotion in the mind of Jason Voorhees, as well as the mind of Randall Flagg.

That night, Jason raged as he never had before. Within hours, he had broken through the Arcadian defenses. He slaughtered them all, men, women, children, demons, Hellhounds, all manner of creations as he never had before.

That night, Arcadia fell.


	23. The Black Thirteen

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

ҲҲҲ

Moments earlier...

Randall Flagg had been sitting in his tent, naked, focusing his mind on Jason and his prey. He could see Jason, could see three of the four people in the house, but he could not see the fourth. Gan had shut his eyes to that person, and as much as he despised it, he could not do anything to break through that barrier.

So, when he had seen Jason's failure, he flowed quickly, making his way to the undead murderer...and punished him.

Immediately afterwards, he knew, Jason had gone on a killing spree the likes of which had never been seen before. He slaughtered all of Arcadia.

Flagg couldn't care less about that...what he cared about, at that moment, was where the prophet had gone to after he/she had been taken away by whatever power had been there.

ҲҲҲ

Xander walked hand-in-hand with Elliot, smiling and giggling as he came down from his high. Elliot had refused to indulge, knowing that she would be on call the next day and that she needed to be in top shape, a sign of responsibility that Xander had nothing but respect and admiration for.

Even in the sublime surrealism of the underground, there were times when he felt as though he had never been to Hell, as though there were no war going on. Without his extended family, he knew that these times would be nothing short of nonexistent...without Elliot, he would surely be dead. He felt love for her in his heart, and knew that it would not die, if for no other reason than the fact that he did not want it to.

"So, um, my turn," Elliot said, smiling to herself as she thought, "Things you wanna do after the war ends."

"Ooh, a fun one," Xander said with a smile, "Um...promise you won't laugh?"

"Cross my heart," Elliot said.

"...I wanna drive a monster truck," Xander said, rushing it all out.

Elliot, despite herself, began to laugh, snorting as she did so.

"Ah, you snort when you laugh," Xander chuckled, "That's so _cute_."

Elliot smacked him on the arm, still laughing, "Bastard. So, monster truck? Childhood fantasy?"

"It's what I swore I'd do when I was a kid," Xander said, smiling in nostalgia, "It was...my dream job, being paid to drive and run over shit."

"Eloquent," Elliot said with a grin, "Well...for me, I'd like to try and find my parents. I tried back when the war began, but there's just no way to tell...even with as well connected as the FZ's are, it's nearly impossible."

"Wow..." Xander said, sadness coming over him slightly, "I completely forgot about my parents. Though, I guess..." at her look of concern, he sighed, "My dad beat me. And my mom drank to deal with it. A big part of me really doesn't care that they might be dead, but...still."

"...You never saw them again, did you," Elliot asked.

"No," Xander said in confusion, "Why?"

"Well, if you never saw them again, then that means you have the comfort of knowing that they're either still alive...or in Heaven," Elliot said with a smile, "After all, you never saw them in..."

"...Yeah, you're right," Xander said, forcing a smile up, "That is a comfort."

An awkward silence descended upon them. They shuffled about momentarily, their body language betraying their discomfort, before Elliot chose to end it, saying, 'it's your turn.'

"...I wanna go on a road trip," Xander said, a small smile playing on his lips as he remembered his dreams in high school.

"Really," Elliot asked with a grin, "That's something I think everyone should do once before they die. Or, Hell, even after," she laughed.

"Yeah, it would be nice," Xander smiled even more, "We take one of Titus's cars, go cruising around America, Mexico, Canada, Hell, even further down if we want. Bring enough food and water for a week, and pick up whatever else we need on the way."

"...Let's do it," Elliot said suddenly, a light in her eyes that he'd never seen before, "C'mon, we can have fun, search for our parents, just riding around, seeing the sights! After Adam is finished, let's hit the road, you and me...what d'ya say?"

Xander paused and thought for a moment. As awesome an idea as it was, he had this gut feeling, an instinct...telling him that it was not what was meant to happen.

He opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say.

And four people fell into their world, much as Xander and Flagg had fallen into this one.

ҲҲҲ

Flagg had returned to the camp a little after the Arcadians had arrived. Ordinarily, he was quite certain he would not have heard of their presence till much later. In this case, however, he could feel two things, one blazing like a sun, while the other blazed only slightly lower.

The prophet...she was in the CFZ.

Flagg felt a momentary spur of movement as soon as he arrived in his tent, walking back out with the full intent on destroying them as only the Dark Man could, but another source of...not quite light erupted into his vision.

He felt a shudder run through his body as he came to realize just what it was that had come to him. It was something that he had run across before, both it and its siblings. It was the most powerful of them all.

The Black Bend in Maerlyn's Rainbow, the Wizard's Rainbow...it was the Black Thirteen.

He knew full-well what that fragile orb was capable of...if used in the proper ways. All thoughts of the prophet fled his mind, dismissed as if they were nothing more than a thin wisp of air. Now, his mind was lost in the image of the Black 13.

He must have it...he would have it.

And with it, he would have the world.

ҲҲҲ

"He's going into shock," Elliot shouted out as she worked to save Adam's life, "Whatever hit him nicked an artery. Hey, what's your name?!"

"J-Joan," the scared prophet shakily replied.

"Well, Joan, what I need you to do is hold onto his hand, keep talking to him, keep him alert and calm as best as you can," Elliot said, "You," she pointed to Grace, "Use something to put pressure on his hand, we need to stop the bleeding. And you," she pointed to Luke, "I need you to find a tourniquet for his arm, with bleeding as severe as his, we may have let the limb die to save his life. Now, Xander," Elliot turned to her boyfriend, only to find him lost, staring into the strange orb that they had brought with them.

"XANDER!" he snapped out of it, turning to her in a daze, "Go to the medical tent, find Cox, he's on call tonight, get him here, tell him the patient is a 20-something white male, severe blade wound through the foot, arterial damage with severe bleeding, another wound, sliced the hand from the middle of the palm up, patient has lost nearly 40 percent of all the blood in his body, we're gonna need a blood transfusion," Elliot turned to Joan, "What's his blood type?"

"A negative," Joan rattled off, still slightly in shock herself.

"You get that," Xander nodded, "Good, tell all that to Cox, he'll know what to do."

"On it," Xander shouted out, and he turned and ran for the medical tent as fast as he could.

He reached the tent in record time, finding Cox inside the main tent, sipping on some coffee.

"Fuck," the Chief of Medicine said after being briefed on the situation, "Ok, I'm gonna give you a couple of things to carry, and damn it all, if you drop so much as one of them, I'll send your ass right back to Hell, got me," he didn't wait for a response, merely began shoving things into his arms.

"A negative," Cox rattled off, searching through the small blood bank they had as quickly as he could, "Ah," he pulled out a bag of blood, tossing it into a cooler as he did so, and grabbed a few more supplies, "Alright, Xanadu, let's go," he whistled, and the two ran as fast as they could for the wounded soldier.

ҲҲҲ

Xander stood in the background as Cox and Elliot did their work, moving with a speed and effortlessness that came only with experience and a long history of working together. For a moment he felt jealous, knowing that he and Elliot would probably never gain that level of familiarity, if only for the sheer fact that he was a soldier and she was a medic.

Sighing, he turned his mind away from the soldier, from the newcomers, from the crowd that had gathered, and focused on the thing that had transfixed his gaze.

The Black Thirteen.

He knew very well what it was. It had been spoken of in Hell more than once, with a note of reverence each time. He knew of its power, though he knew that he could never understand it fully, nor could he ever wield it. Nor did he want to. In Hell, the Black 13 was considered the holy grail. It was capable of bending time, travel between worlds, even destruction the likes of which had never been seen before.

And it was gone.

Xander searched the area over quickly, trying to find any evidence that the orb had ever been there, and where it may have been taken off to. After nearly half an hour of searching, however, Xander found that it was nowhere.

Sighing to himself, Xander came to the only conclusion he could given the circumstances.

"Flagg," he whispered to himself.

ҲҲҲ

Randy saw him coming before he even fully realized what it was he would say, before he even realized what it was the prophet had carried. With that knowledge at the forefront of his mind, Flagg had started searching, using the Black Bend to seek that which he could use.

And, lo and behold, he found it.

"FLAGG," Xander shouted as he came for his tent, ripping it open in anger, revealing a shirtless Flagg dressed in only his jeans, with the Black 13 in his lap.

"Well, howdy, friend," Flagg grinned up at him, "Pop a squat."

"Give it over, Flagg," Xander said, pointing an accusatory finger at him, "You know just as well as I do what it is, so hand it the FUCK OVER!"

"Why, Xander," Flagg's grin went wider, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Xander felt his knees buckle as Flagg excerted merely a fraction of his power, sending him down into a seated position.

"We struck a bargain, Mr. Harris," Flagg reminded him with a chuckle, rubbing the orb possessively, "You agreed to ignore my actions in exchange for my help in overcoming Adam."

"Fuck Adam," Xander growled out, "I would rather have this world belong to him than YOU have the Black Bend of the Rainbow."

"Ah, you say that now," Flagg said (sneered), glimpsing down into the orb, "But would you like to know what I have seen in the Black O'Thirteen?"

Xander opened his mouth, intending to retort to Flagg's bait, when the wizard bent his head down with his magic, forcing Xander to stare into the black mass.

The orb looked clear for a moment, as clear as pure back rock could look, but slowly, a light began to fill his vision. He could not tell if it was his mind's vision or his real vision, for all he knew it was both. That light became a vision, a vision that would haunt him till the very end of his days, a vision that rivaled all the tortures that Hell had spawned.

He saw Cordelia, naked and bound, her body being pillaged by workers in Adam's slave camps. The devil-ball made him feel it, too, made him feel her being raped, made him feel her invented false desire for it, as well as her pain and shame for letting it happen and for enjoying it due to the spell.

As long a moment as it was, it lasted years in Xander's mind. When he was released from its view, Xander was gasping out in pain, small tears welling up in his eyes.

"...If you take the orb, she will remain in that Hell forever," Flagg said with a peevish grin, holding out the Black 13 for him to take.

Xander glared at him for a long moment, trying hard to make himself do what he _knew _in his heart to be right...but Cordelia was suffering...

"Fuck you," Xander whispered, and he rose to his feet and walked off, leaving the Black Bend with the Wizard.

Flagg laughed, merry with pain and death.


	24. Scene 24

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

A/N: a special shout-out to the one we know as Sai King, long days and pleasant nights, good sir!

ҲҲҲ

Joan sat inside the hospital tent, clinging to Adam like a lifeline. She had done a fair amount of crying since the beginning of the war, and tonight, she felt as though she'd cried enough to fill an ocean.

They hadn't done a briefing with her yet, but they were interviewing both Grace and Luke right now. Apparently, the black orb had transported them to California...the CFZ, where the 'Messiah' was located. She felt a moment of disgust run through her body, knowing that God Himself had decreed that Flagg was nothing more than a cockroach in His eyes.

Sighing, she hoped that her friends were alright, and said a silent prayer for her soul mate, all the while wondering when they could go home...

ҲҲҲ

Lieutenant Snyder read the report over again, making sure he had all the information they had collected correctly entered into the report. By far, while not the weirdest circumstance he'd encountered since the beginning of the war, it was definitely up there.

"Ah," General Neusom responded as the young officer walked up to his desk in the cave, "Your report?"

"Sir," Snyder began, "The four are members of the New England Free Zone, Arcadia Sector. Apparently, they were out on a special assignment when Sgt. Rove was assaulted by what they described as 'a zombie-smelling hockey player with a machete,' their words, Sir. They had previously found a black orb inside the house which they somehow used to transport here, although now no one can account for its whereabouts, Sir."

"Ugh," Neusom groaned, "More people appearing from the sky. Just what we need. Well, least this time we can get rid of them. Have Tech-Com ring up the NEFZ and gain confirmation of their identities, then have them contact the Arcadian Free Zone to arrange transport."

"Right away, Sir," Snyder replied.

ҲҲҲ

Flagg stared deeply into the orb for a long moment, focusing his mind on the image he wished to find. Slowly, a red shape came into being, a long red demon with four eyes and horns like those of a Hart.

"Trigon," Flagg called out with the Black Bend, "Oh, Trigie!"

"PADICK," Trigon responded, his voice emanating a tone of anger that momentarily frightened the living piss out of Flagg, "WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE WITH ME NOW? HAVE YOU FINISHED THAT CONIVING BITCH GLORIFICUS?"

"Not yet, Trigger," Flagg said with his same grin, "But, I just wanted to let you know, I found where she is."

"HOW DID YOU ACCOMPLISH THIS," Trigon demanded.

"Take a wild guess, and here's a hint," Flagg grinned even more, "How am I talking to you?"

"...THE BLACK BEND," Trigon chuckled, "YOUR IMPUDENCE KNOWS NO BOUNDS, DOES IT WALTER?"

"No, sir, it does not," Flagg said with a laugh, "My project here on this world is quickly coming to fruition. With the Black 13, I shall have my victory very quickly."

"YOU SPEAK AS THOUGH I WOULD CARE," Trigon said, causing a shadow of a frown to cross Flagg's face, "SURELY YOU DID NOT CONTACT ME MERELY TO INFORM ME OF YOUR TRIVIUAL PURSUITS. TELL ME WHAT IT IS YOU WANT."

"Fine," Flagg said, regaining his smile, "Since you ask nicely, I want your help with something."

ҲҲҲ

"Sir," Snyder returned from the Tech-Com area roughly one hour later, "Tech-Com got through to Boston, but...Boston can't get through to Arcadia."

"What do you mean," Neusom asked.

"Boston has been trying to raise Arcadia for several hours now, Sir," Snyder explained, "They were preparing to send out a unit to investigate the matter."

"Keep me informed of their progress, lieutenant," Neusom ordered, "And don't let the Arcadians know about this. No reason to get them worried over what's probably a small problem."

ҲҲҲ

Xander lay in his cot that night, pondering to himself.

His bargain with the devil had come back to bite him in the ass tonight. He felt certain that allowing Flagg to keep the Black 13 was a bad move on his part, but...

His mind echoed back to the image and feel of Cordelia, writhing in agony and false ecstasy...he could not imagine what it would be like, having to deal with that every day. He just knew, without a doubt now, that he had to get her out of that situation.

However, Flagg had set a trap for him, he realized that now. After forcing him to use the Black 13, Xander now felt its corrupting influence all over his body. He yearned to return to its gaze, to use it until he could use it no longer. The addiction was a horrible one, one that Xander knew would be difficult to overcome, especially sense it was fueled by his guilt over both Cordelia's situation and his allowing Flagg to keep the orb.

Sighing to himself, he attempted to close his eyes to let his exhaustion over the day's events send him into a deep sleep. Mere moments later, however, he woke up to the sounds of people running.

ҲҲҲ

"What's happened?"

"They say it just fell!"

"What?! How?"

"What the fuck's goin' on?!"

Raven found herself among the large number of CFZ members clamoring around the Tech-Com center, hoping to hear exactly what it was that had happened. She herself had no idea, but she knew whatever it was was big, something so big it had everyone on their toes.

"Move aside," she resisted the urge to growl as General Neusom, pompous scum that he was, marched through the crowd, his chest puffed out like an idiot, "Give me the microphone, son."

Neusom took the mic in his hand and began to speak into it, silencing all around him.

"This is General William Neusom, commanding officer of the California Free Zone, please repeat your previous transmission, over."

Static echoed out for a long moment before a disgruntled voice replied, "This is the New England Free Zone, repeat, this is the New England Free Zone. Our scouts sent out to investigate the state of the Arcadian Free Zone report that it has fallen, repeat, the Arcadian Free Zone has fallen. There are no survivors found as of this time, repeat, there are no survivors found as of this time."

The stunned crowd could do nothing but gape in shock. Everyone had heard of Arcadia in Maryland, the city that had withstood siege for years. A city did not fall in one night, nor without survivors...something cataclysmic had happened that night, and it caused everyone to join together just a little bit closer than before.

"...Understood, New England," a visibly shaken Neusom replied after a moment, "Is there anything we can do?"

"Take care of our people, Sir," the Tech-Com in the NEFZ said, "Have your people relay a copy of your briefing as well, it might come in handy."

Neusom paused for a moment, turning over to his Tech-Com, nodding to him to do so.

"What's happening," Raven jumped slightly as she heard Xander's voice behind her whisper.

"...It's Arcadia," she said with a slight shudder, "It's been overrun."

"...Isn't that the city those four came from," Xander asked quietly.

"Yes," she replied, "They don't know yet."

"...Whoa, say again, CFZ," they were interrupted by the loud exclamation from the NEFZ Tech-Com.

"I said, 'they were assaulted by a, quote, 'zombie-smelling hockey player with a machete,'" the CFZ Tech-Com repeated.

_Zombie hockey player with a machete_, Xander thought to himself, feeling a chill run up and down his spine, _It can't be..._

"Lemme see that report!!" Xander shouted out as he made for the center of the crowd.

"Harris, now is not the time for your bulls-" Neusom began, but Xander bowled over him without a thought as he grabbed the report out of the Tech-Com's hands.

Xander ignored the irritating shouts of the general, reading the report as fast as he could. It all fit, the large size, the rotted clothes, the hockey mask, the machete, the resistance to bullets...but...how?

"How in the fuck," he said to himself, easily being heard in the dead silence his voice had caused, "Could Jason Voorhees be here?"

ҲҲҲ

For the next few hours, the military types had grilled Xander relentlessly about Jason Voorhees. Xander had explained everything, from the movies to the television show, even a few of the comics he'd actually read before he'd been sent to Hell.

They could not wrap their heads around the fact that, to Xander, Jason was nothing more than a character from a series of 80s slasher movies, albeit a kickass character.

The fact, though, that he was being held responsible for the decimation of an entire city...it held staggering consequences as far as Xander was concerned...as well as dangerous connotations.

Jason did not go outside Crystal Lake, not for any reason other than to kill his family. Something had made him go outside his normal bounds. The only conclusion he could come to was that Adam had somehow found him and driven him out, or destroyed something of his, his home or some possession of his mother's...and now Jason was just out for blood.

That thought sent a shiver up Xander's spine...but another thought did so much more.

If Jason was real in this world...were other characters real, too?

He'd heard the rumors about the nightmares. Nightmares of death by crucifixion and hanging being had by mages, nightmares of oppression and persecution from the mages by the normal people, along with the rise in children's death. That lead him to one possibility that he really did not want to be real.

Freddy Krueger was real in this world...and he had visited him.

Shaking off the shivers (whether they were from the Black Bend addiction or fear, he couldn't say for sure), he entertained the possibility that there were other characters out there. Some good, some bad. God, he hoped Ash was in this world, or at the very least the good version of the Terminator. He could use the backup.

Unfortunately, after giving up all the information he had, Neusom had kicked him back out into the general population so that he couldn't find out or influence the ultimate decision on what was gonna be done.

He knew, though, that once the Arcadians found out...well, he could imagine very easily just how hard it would hit them.

ҲҲҲ

Neusom stared into the hospital room where the four Arcadians had gathered. Sgt. Rove was laying in his hospital bed with Specialist Girardi clutching his hand as she wept, clearly wishing that he were awake to comfort her. The other Girardi, a Lt., along with 1st Sgt. Polk were sitting side-by-side, holding each other as they quietly sat in thought, clearly staving off the tears.

They knew, now, that they were the only survivors of Arcadia. Neusom had no choice but to feel a moment of pride as he realized the way they were handling it...they were handling it like soldiers, not buckling at the sheer weight of such a tragedy. They, and those like them, were the reason the humans would win the war, he knew this to be so. No matter how many Flaggs, or Harrises, or mages there were in this world, it was impossible to match the awesome force of the human soldier.

He sighed, thankful that they were staying together so well...cause he knew that what he had to do next would do much good and bad for these people...but he knew he had to do it.

"The scouting party," the general said quietly, gaining all their attentions, "Have found the zombie that...The NEFZ has decided to begin a counterattack before this thing leaves the sector...they have requested that one of you, if you are able, come along on the mission as a guide."

"I'm in," Grace said immediately.

"Grace, no," Joan immediately objected, "Please, stay here. We barely escaped hat thing last time, I-"

"And whose fault was that, Girardi," Grace demanded, standing up and away from Luke who could do nothing but watch, "You led us there, and all we found was that black...thing, and we don't even know where it fucking is right now! If I can go back and help to bring down the thing that killed all the people we know and love...I can't pass up the chance."

"Grace, no," Joan shouted, lost and desperate, "Luke, please, help me!"

The male Girardi sighed for a moment, staring forward as all inside the room stared at him in anticipation. Finally, the young man rose to his feet and walked with a calm air of dignity that had been lost on him during high school, facing the general as he came beside his woman.

"...When do we leave?"

ҲҲҲ

Unidentified Location, New Mexico:

A knock upon the door of Colonel Alan Schaffer was nothing new. As head of the 5-year-old unit known only to those with high level access as the 'Black Berets,' to the President and Joint Chiefs as 'The 700th Division (or 700th Club),' and to those inside the unit as 'The Real Fuckin' Ghostbusters,' the Vietnam veteran received visits from all kinds of people every day.

This knock in particular, though, meant something different to him. For one, it was the only knock on the base that could shake a door as much as his own. For two, he could feel the cold eyes from behind the door, telling him without any room for doubt who it was.

"Enter," he spoke, chuckling slightly to himself as he remembered a time when he was the one being told to enter.

The door opened, allowing him sight to what he considered to be the only man on earth that could ever defeat him in hand-to-hand combat...or combat in general. He stood about an inch smaller than his 6'9'', and his younger frame supported as much muscle as a 300lb body could handle. Dressed in his normal black fatigues with that eerie skull t-shirt he normally wore when off duty, the dark haired man truly was a beast of war, reminding Schaffer of when he had first actually joined the US Army in the days of Vietnam.

"Captain Castiglione reporting as ordered, Sir," the Captain said.

"At ease, Frank," 'Dutch' said with a small grin, "Have a seat."

"Thank you, Sir," Frank said as he relaxed his stance and sat down.

"Cigar, whiskey," Dutch offered, but the Captain declined, "Son...I assume you have heard of the fall of the NEFZ city of Arcadia."

A scowl crossed his features, and Dutch felt a moment of gratitude that it was not aimed at him.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dutch remarked, "Captain, the New England Free Zone is organizing a strike team to go in and counterattack before the force that took it out moves on...I've been asked to supply a team, my top team for this effort...and I've chosen your team, Son."

The Captain remained unmoved by the amazing display of faith Schaffer had just exhibited, but Dutch could not expect anything less. Frank 'Castle' Castiglione was a man of little emotion, except when spending time with his family. That was why Dutch ensured he got as much leave as was possible, so that the man would not lose himself in his mission.

"Thank you, Sir," Frank said, "My team is more than willing to serve."

"I expect nothing less, Captain," Dutch smiled, "The Skull Crew is our best team, and I expect nothing but the best from you."

"Yes, Sir," Frank Castle said, "The Punishers will prepare for mobilization within the hour."

"Excellent," Dutch said, "Now, get to it, Son, and bring us back the severed head of that ugly motherfucker."

Castiglione nodded, turned on his heel, and marched out the door.

ҲҲҲ

Xander rose to his feet immediately, producing a blade from underneath his pillow as two armed soldiers walked in, one of whom he recognized as the soldier that had nearly fought Raven over the use of the word Malefica.

"What the fuck is this," he muttered, putting away his blade into his pants as he saw that it would be of little use.

The tent parted once more, revealing General Neusom, dressed in his BDUs with that contemptuous grin on his face.

"Gear up, Son," Neusom talked down at him, "You're on duty."

"What," Xander demanded.

"The NEFZ is requisitioning YOUR aid in taking down 'Jason,' since you seem to know so much about him," Neusom grinned, "And it's your duty to answer the call, Son, so pack your gear and get ready to be dropped in the meat grinder."

Neusom tossed him a dossier sealed up with rubber bands, thankfully preventing its contents from spilling out.

"Review those on the flight," Neusom said, "You're due on the surface in 25 minutes."


	25. The Hunters

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

A/N: a special shout-out to the one we know as Sai King, long days and pleasant nights, good sir!

ҲҲҲ

Randall stared into the orb for what must have been the millionth time that hour. Quickly, the black orb was overtaking him with its strange addiction. Flagg had no doubts, however, that when the time came he could detach himself from its claws.

He had stumbled upon a few things, though, that gave him pause. For one, the Free Zones were now aware that Arcadia had fallen (he patted himself on the back for that). They were organizing their efforts together to attempt to take back the city by destroying the one who'd killed it. Jason was not aware at the moment, nor did Flagg plan on warning him. Jason was not moving yet, though he knew that he would be moving shortly. He was combing the city for survivors, taking out his endless rage on the city itself until he found some poor soul to destroy. The NEFZ had already seen him, but had escaped his own gaze by pure luck more than anything else.

The CFZ was sending in Xander as a field expert on Jason, two of the surviving Arcadians as guides, and two of their Blackhawks for the effort. They would meet up with the detachment from New Mexico in Boston, stopping in Nebraska for a moment to pick up two demon hunters they believed would be useful.

Flagg knew something, though, that no one else did. The Key...it was in Boston...along with the Slayer. And Glorificus did not know...nor did she know that Flagg knew where she was.

He took a moment to thank himself for gaining this gift, this tool that would ensure his victory. Without the Black 13, so many things would be different.

For one, Xander would have a chance.

ҲҲҲ

"What," Elliot asked in disbelief, "What do you mean he's gone?!"

"I mean, Neusom grabbed him and had his thuggish MPs toss him into a Blackhawk," Dr. Cox said as he moved from patient to patient, "Neusom's got it out for the Xanadu, Barbie, him and Fagg. You need to keep your eyes open, girl, otherwise things could go downhill real fucking fast."

"Neusom didn't even let him say goodbye," Elliot asked quietly.

Cox sighed to himself, putting on the most comforting look on his face as he could and said, "Xander cares about you, Barbie, hell, he may even love you. What Neusom does in his stupidity won't change that."

Elliot, strange as it was, felt comforted by that fact, knowing that it was true as he said it. She smiled for a moment, then without giving him a moment, launched out and hugged him as hard as she could.

"Alright, alright, no hugging!" Cox said, gently pushing her off him, "Now, if you're done bein' a crybaby, why don't you check and see how the Arcadians are doing. Go be 'Cheer 'Em Up, Barbie'...Barbie."

"Ok," Elliot did in her highest, 'cutest,' girly-prep voice, "Let's, like, do it!"

"NO!!!" Cox shouted out, "Not the voice!!!!!"

ҲҲҲ

New York City...

"NO, NO, NO!!!! I said RED DRESS, RED!!!!! NOT PURPLE!!!!!!!!!!"

Glorificus was, by nature, not a patient being. Considering that she had been forcefully ejected from Hell, where she had nearly dethroned Satan, thanks to her former lover Trigon the Terrible (in bed), she was allowed a certain amount of sympathy and understanding...though that fact evaporated in the face of her sheer spoiled and airheaded attitude!!

"I'm sorry, oh Glorious One," unless, of course, you were the 'hobbits with acne,' "We tried our best to find you a red dress that fit your manner of style, o Wondrous One, but one cannot be found!"

"Ugh, stupid Newt," she thoughtlessly backhanded the priest known formerly known as Newt, driving him into a wall where his skull was caved in, "FIND ME A FUCKING RED DRESS, NOW, OR I SWEAR TO GOD-"

"God?" a quiet voice asked, with a smile in his voice as he walked out of seemingly nowhere, his sharp cowboy boots and spurs echoing against the marble floor of what had been the penthouse suite in the Plaza, "I thought your kind renounced the very presence of God?"

Glorificus turned her contemptuous gaze on the interloper, smiling slightly as she realized that she would finally be able to eat for the first time in a month. Her smile widened as she felt the sheer power radiating from him. He would make a fine meal indeed.

"Grab him," Glory ordered, and her imps rushed forward to take Flagg in their arms, but Flagg merely launched out with a kick and a burst of magic that propelled several imps through the penthouse window.

"...Well, shit," Glory said with a grin, "That means you won't go quietly. I like that!"

"You're damn right I ain't gonna go quietly," Flagg said, circling around her slowly and examining her as she spun around in her black dress to keep her eye on him, "And you and I ain't gonna fight, either."

"Oh, yeah," Glory demanded, smirking as she folded her arms up and took an arrogant stance, "And what makes you think that exactly?"

"Trigon," Flagg smiled, "You want him."

Glory's former smirk had turned into a glare of pure hate.

"You...you're with him? That dickless son of a bitch sent YOU for me!!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there, darlin'," Flagg grinned, holding up his arms, "Trigon didn't send me anywhere. I'm here on my own...with a proposition for ya."

"...A proposition?"

"How would you," Flagg walked over to the bar and poured himself a gin and tonic, "Like the opportunity to get your vengeance on your ex-boyfriend?"

Glory stared at him, disbelieving as he offered her a drink. She considered his words for a moment, then shrugged and grabbed the glass of alcohol out of his hand.

"Alright, Fleshbag," Glory said with a shrug, drinking her drink as she did so, "What're you proposing?"

Flagg grinned his impetuous grin at her, then walked over to her expensive looking couch and plomped down onto it, resting his boots on the fabric and ripping it open with his spurs. Glory gained a look of pensive annoyance, but prevented herself from flying at his brain. She would toy with him before taking her prize.

"My name is Randall Flagg," he named himself, and he felt a moment's worth of surprise when she did not recognize him, "I have made a bargain with Trigon. In order to gain entry into the Hellmouth, I need to bring down Adam's shield over it. I am capable of bypassing the shield, but I cannot bypass it with an entire army. So, Trigon has agreed to send out a pulse of pure energy from the Hellmouth, to disable Adam's shield long enough to allow the army through...on the condition that I bring him YOU, subdued, so that he may have his way with you and then kill you."

Glory glared at him for a very long moment, then whispered, "You mentioned a proposition? All I'm hearing is jibber-jabber from your ape mouth!"

"That's cause I haven't gotten to the proposition," Flagg grinned, coming to his feet and walking over to her, squatting down slightly to meet her eye level, "I have agreed to Trigon's demands...but, he only said that you had to be subdued...and there are so many ways to take that word. It could mean bound, beaten within an inch of your existence, with no ability or will to fight back...or it could simply mean that you be bound...but with all your strength and will intact."

Glory stared at him for a long moment, thinking on what he said as her brain attempted to process what he'd said. Slowly, the logic came to her.

She smiled suddenly as the light bulb came on.

"...Why," Glory asked, curious, "Why would YOU want to help me?"

"Well, there are lots of reasons," Flagg said glibly, falling back into the sofa, "It could be because Trigon pissed me off and I wanna make him pay. It might be because I realize that if you're dead, then the only reason he is avoiding this world would be gone and he might try and take over after I do. It might be because the Key and its guardian are very important to my enemy and I want him even more distracted than he already is. Hell, it might even be because I just feel like doin' it. But y'know what it is? Ever since I saw you in the Black 13," Glory gasped, "Yes, _that_ Black 13...ever since I saw you, I just knew that I had to jump your bones."

Glory smirked at him, pleased at last that her very odd human body had a use, and then proceeded to jump _his_ bones.

ҲҲҲ

Nebraska...Nebraskan Free Zone Headquaters, AKA: the Roadhouse.

Nebraska was sparsely populated, both before and during the war. It was the home of several refueling stations, a small mountain's worth of arms, and several of the world's premiere demon hunters, a few of whom would be requisitioned to join in the effort to defeat Jason.

Xander, of course, did not know that. All he knew was that the Blackhawk they were on had begun to descend next to the small bar, and that a small number of men with rifles were coming out to greet them.

"Alright," one of the Blackhawk crew was yelling over the sound of the helicopter, "We're going to be here for 15 minutes! There are mens and womens restrooms inside, along with latrines in the back. If you are low an ammo, you can get some here. If you need anything else, as the bartender and they'll try and help you. Remember, 15 minutes! If you're not back here, you get left behind!"

Xander made it to a latrine. He grabbed himself several extra clips of ammunition for his SAW. He grabbed a machete, a claymore, and a flash bang grenade. He hoped that God would be there for him tonight.

He was going after the ultimate badass of the horror movie genre. Jason Voorhees, while he was no Michael Myers, was to Xander more of a threat than any other fictitious form of evil he had heard of. Even Freddy Krueger scared him less. Going up against Freddy meant you had time, you could avoid him via medication, or if you couldn't, you knew you had some time as he always toyed with his victims. That gave you time to wake up, or if you couldn't, you could have someone else wake you up.

Jason, though...he was the land version of _Jaws_. He had no emotional connection to his kill...he only killed to kill. He was a machine, one who would never stop...

He said a silent prayer as he climbed aboard the Helo, noting that there were two more bodies with aboard.

"Hey," Xander greeted them, "I'm Xander Harris."

**Fifteen Minutes Ago**

"No, you are not going, God damn it," the young man shouted as he continued to gear up, "You have a duty and responsibilities here, Sir. We're going, whether you like it or not!"

"What he said," the slightly younger man said in support of his brother, slapping a clip into a Kalashnikov for emphasis.

"For God's sakes, you can't just take this decision away from me like that," their father said, "No matter what, I am the best man for this job, and you both know it!"

"You're right," the older brother said, "But that's also true about you leading around here. A leader can't always be at the front lines."

"Sometimes, he has to be in the back," the younger brother said, laying a hand on his father's shoulder, "No matter how much he hates it."

"He does it," the older brother laid his hand on his father's other shoulder, "Because it's his responsibility, not just to the people he's been entrusted with leading, but because it's his responsibility to his country."

"...Fuck," the leader of the Nebraskan Free Zone said, "Fine. I hope you both come back in body bags, just so I can bring you back to life and then kill ya again."

"Love you, too, Dad," the younger brother said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You boys be careful," the father said, "Jason...I've met him before. He's a tough motherfucker. Blind him, boys, then blow his ass to Hell. That's the only way you can possibly kill him...the only way."

"Right," the older brother said, "We'll see you when we get back, Dad."

"...Good luck."

**Present**

The two brothers exchanged glances, then the younger of the two made a decision. He leaned forward, extending his hand to Xander.

"Name's Sam Winchester," he introduced himself, "It's good to meet you, Xander."

"Same here," Xander said.

"I'm Dean," the older brother greeted him, "You're our expert on Jason, right?"

"Yeah," Xander said.

"Talk to us on the way," Sam said, "We want to know everything."

"What he means is," Dean said, "We want to know _every-fuckin'-thing_ about that fuck that brought Arcadia to an end."


	26. Hell Hath No Fury Part 1

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

A/N: a special shout-out to the one we know as Sai King, long days and pleasant nights, good sir!

ҲҲҲ

Boston...New England Free Zone Headquarters

The team from the CFZ and NFZ had arrived shortly after the New Mexican team, a team whose name for this excursion was 'the Skull Crew.' Xander heard the mutterings, though, about the 'Black Berets,' the 'Punishers.' He was kinda of expecting them to be Punisher knockoffs, all dressed in black BDUs with that skull on their shirts, maybe even the warpaint. Hell, he half suspected them to be led by Frank Castle himself. Lord, that would make him feel great, the Punisher on his side in the war against Adam. There was no way they could lose.

They were all assembling in a small amphitheater. There were two teams, dropped in by the Blackhawks. The first team were comprised primarily of Black Berets, while the second would be a joint unit of members of the NFZ, CFZ, and the NEFZ. The two details would number in ten individuals per group. In his group, he knew there was him, the two Winchesters, a medic the NEFZ were supplying, and Grace Polk as Luke was going to be with the Berets for this. That left five spots open, and Xander knew they would be filled with the best soldiers from the NEFZ. This was personal for them.

Sighing, he seated himself next to the two Winchesters, who were quietly discussing the tactics they would recommend, along with any traps they felt could be used to prevent Jason from escaping. He had warned them all about Jason's abilities, but they were convinced that with proper planning and execution, they could bring him down. Xander, however, was very much so not convinced.

He sighed, shifting around to get comfortable as the hall filled with people. The head of the Boston Free Zone, not the New England Free Zone, was stood at the podium. He was an elderly Irishman, he could hear the accent from where he was, and obviously a very respected man as he was speaking before the overall head of the NEFZ. Two younger men were sat by his side, neither one speaking that he could tell, as they were both bowed down in their chairs, as though they were praying.

The double doors to the side of the room opened, immediately drawing his attention to them...and he felt his jaw slacken as he saw just who had come through those doors.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the elderly Irishman called out, "Your attention. Now, in less than 2 hours, you shall be in Arcadia, preparing to face the most well-known mass murderer in the history of our nation. Jason Voorhees is a monster, by every account. He must be stopped before he opens the door for the fall of another Free Zone.

"Each of you know your assignments. The Black Berets, whom I on behalf of the Boston Free Zone thank for coming to our aid, shall be Alpha Team. Their job is lure Jason into this bottleneck," he used a pointer to indicate a section of the former high school, "Where Bravo Team, the team composed of members of the NFZ, CFZ, and NEFZ shall trigger our ambush. Once Jason is inside this bottleneck, we shall use flash bangs to blind him and then fire all our weapons into him, along with triggering all of our explosives. Logically, even if he is some form of super-zombie, he shall be blown to bits, enough so that we can capture him and lock him away."

Xander had to admit, he could see the logic of the plan.

"Now, allow me the opportunity to introduce the members of our select groups," Xander felt his heart tighten as he unconsciously tried to shrink into himself as he saw who was standing up, "From the New England Free Zone, my boys, Conner and Murphy MacManus," the two men who had been praying came to their feet, standing tall among the crowd who was suddenly whispering among themselves, "Yes, the same MacManus's you so lovingly called the Saints of South Boston."

_Oh, my God_, Xander thought to himself, _The Boondock Saints!_

His hope was momentarily overflowing as he realized that they had two, really three, badass Irishmen on their side.

In his rushing thoughts, he completely missed over the next two individuals, but when he heard the third name, he came crushing back to reality.

"And, lastly, my lovely daughter-in-law, Faith MacManus."

Xander cautiously looked up, watching as Faith came to her feet and stood beside Conner, hugging him to his side as he did the same. He could see her smiling slightly at him, and he at her. He felt a moment of jealousy, but ruthlessly crushed it. In this world, he had left them after the Mayor's day and never returned. In their minds, he was a deserter, and especially in this time of war, that was the worst thing anyone could be. In his own world, they had shared one night together before his descent into Hell. They made them at best acquaintances, and at worst, fuck-buddies. While it was childish of him, he simply could not let her see him.

"From New Mexico, the Black Berets."

The big men in the back stood as one. Xander's eyes immediately went to their Berets, noting that they did indeed have a skull on them, but he could not be sure if Frank Castle was in their group. The big guy in the front had the best chance of being the Punisher, but Xander could not be sure.

"From the Nebraska Free Zone, Sam and Dean Winchester."

The two brothers next to him stood up, standing with their fellow warriors about to be dropped into the war zone.

"From the California Free Zone, our field expert, Alexander Harris."

Xander stalled for as long as he could. He stood slowly, trying desperately to keep himself from being seen. Then, a tiny little voice in the back of his head woke up and said 'STAND.'

He came to his feet in a rush, staring directly at her. She stared back, a shocked look on her face. He silently whispered a prayer up to the Heavens that his death would be quick and painless.

To his great surprise, though, Faith merely nodded after a long moment to him. He felt himself nod back as he felt his body breathe a collective sigh of relief. She was not gonna kill him...at least not yet.

ҲҲҲ

"TWO MINUTES! TWO MINUTES TO DEPLOYMENT IN THE DROPZONE!!"

"ALRIGHT, NOW HERE'S THE PLAN," the helicopter operator called out, "WE'RE GOING INTO A SET PATTERN, HOVERING OVER THE HIGH SCHOOL! ONCE YOU GET THE GREEN LIGHT, REPELL DOWN TO THE DECK! DO NOT LET GO OF YOUR ROPE UNTIL YOU HIT THE DECK!!! ONCE YOU'RE ON DECK, RELEASE THE HARNESS!"

"BRAVO, ONCE WE'RE ON DESK, ESTABLISH A PERIMETER," Conner MacManus called out, "ONCE WE MEET UP WITH ALPHA, WE SHALL BEGIN TO SET UP THE BOTTLENECK!! WATCH YOUR FLANKS, PEOPLE!!!!"

Conner, Murphy, and Faith joined hands and leaned their heads down. He could hear them whispering, just barely over the roar of the chopper. He zoned them out slightly, feeling as though listening to their prayer was...disrespectful, in some way.

He saw the green light...he repelled out of the helo...he hit the deck, falling to a knee after he detached his harness...

"HEADCOUNT, SOUND OFF," Conner shouted out, finding that they lost no one, "Alright, pair off, secure the perimeter. Nothing gets in or out without my approval!"

Xander headed off, setting up his vantage point atop a large piece of rubble. He felt the rubble shift slightly as someone came to rest beside him, covering the opposite direction as he.

"'Sup, X?"

ҲҲҲ

Dave sat up on a hill atop the CFZ base, looking out into the night sky. A pipe of Pineapple Express was in his hand, floating him up as he stared into the heavens.

"Hey," he slowly moved to look over at his niece as she walked up to him, a frown on her face, "You alright?"

"Sure, Aims," Dave said with a sigh, leaning back and laying on his back, "Just dandy."

"Well, mind if I have a little of that dandy?" Amy asked with a grin.

Dave frowned slightly, but offered her the pipe. The Slayer thanked him and took a long hit, inhaling and exhaling with the ease of an expert. She smiled slightly, leaning back to look up at the stars with her uncle.

"Whatdaya see?" she asked.

"...A monopoly board," Dave said with a small giggle.

Amy laughed openly at him, saying, "That's random!"

"It's true," Dave giggled again, "...You ever get the feeling, Aims, that we're just...here? That we don't have any real meaning."

"Well, no, dumbass," Amy said with a smirk, "I'm the Slayer. I'm kinda important."

"Hehe, true," Dave smiled, "Then I guess it's just me."

"...Feeling lonely, unimportant?" Amy asked, and at Dave's nod, she lightly (for a Slayer) punched him in the gut, "Get over it. I'm the goddamn Slayer and Neusom completely ignored me for this mission, when they could _use_ the Slayer on their team. Y'know who the closest one to being 'nonhuman' is on that team? Xander. The rest of them are perfectly human.

"This attack on Jason Voorhees, it's not about Arcadia, at least not just about it...it's about proving that humans can kick the unkickable ass."

"...Maybe," Dave allowed, "But honestly, why? Why was I left out? For years now, since the beginning of the war, I've tried to get myself away from who I was. Directionless, useless, senseless, pretty much everything with a '-less' at the end of it! And I've done that. But...why is it that when we get the chance to do something more than just 'hold the line,' they completely pass me up?"

Amy sighed, wondering how she could put it best. Before, she had felt very much the same way, but nowadays, with her status as Slayer and Weapon, she longed for the feelings of unimportance that her uncle was having. She understood, really. He'd grown by leaps and bounds during the war. But...honestly, she couldn't understand why he wanted so bad to be involved. He'd already proven himself to Titus, Erin, Tommy, Amy, and Hell, the Free Zone, Elliot, and Xander had the utmost respect for him.

Suddenly, it hit her. The only person he hadn't proven himself to...was himself.

Sighing, she decided the best thing she could do for him was to take the weed away and let him sleep it off.

Before she could, though, a voice echoed out across the desert.

"Boo-hoo-motherfucking-hoo," Dave and Amy stiffened as one at the voice behind them, then jumped as they heard the eerie sound of a can of beer popping open, "Look at the fruit of my loins, whining like a little baby."

A man walked in front of them, dressed in a pair of jeans, boots, and a dress shirt. He had a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other, tossing it back as he stared down out the two.

He put the beer down to his side and, staring directly at Dave, said "Wussy."

"...Dad?" Dave quivered, shocked by his father's presence...only slightly moreso because he was dead.

"Yep, it's me," Ken Titus said with a grin, leaning down and grabbing the pipe, "Thanks," he took a long hit, almost a full minute, then exhaled it expertly, grinning as he did so, "Good stuff, Son. Least one good aspect of you's intact."

"Dad," Dave said, his voice shaking, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm here to give you two a little piece of advice, and I get to kick some sense into your whining ass," Ken said, taking another sip of his beer, "Now, then...here's the deal, idiot. You're a man. You were a boy when I was here, and you were a boy when I left...but now, Son, you are a man. And believe me, boy, I am proud of you for that fact."

"Dad...I..."

"Hush up, boy, Daddy's still talking," Ken said, "So, I'm up in Heaven, and yes, I did make it to Heaven...and I see you down here, moping and groaning about being left out when you should be a man and try and find out what you can do to help! You're quitting, boy, and I didn't raise quitters."

"I'm not-" Dave tried to object.

"No, you are," Ken maintained, "You quit the moment you let that in. You quit the second you let it get to you. That's not the way I raised you. Remember how I taught you and Christopher? I tossed you in a lake and let you learn to swim without any help! I let Christopher stick a penny into an outlet to let him learn about electricity! I didn't _give _you anything, you had to _earn_ it!"

Ken calmed down, smoking from his cigarette for a moment and drinking his beer.

"And you earned it...you earned respect from your family, your friends, your peers, and your father...and then you go feeling sorry for yourself. Do me a favor? Take off the panties, drop your balls, and drink a fucking beer, and quit being a wussy!"

Dave stared up at his father, mesmerized by his words.

"Now, this is for both of you," Ken said, squatting down to get eye contact with the two, "Randall Flagg is a killer. He is truly evil, but he is not true evil. Very soon, he will lead you to Adam. When that happens, you cannot kill him. No matter how tempting it will be. Flagg's time will come, but not by your hand. As much as it kills me to say this, boy...running from him is the best thing you can do, at least in the short term."

"Dad," Dave asked, "Is...is he gonna win?"

"I dunno, boy," Ken said, standing upright and taking the final sip of his beer, "I honestly don't see how he couldn't, least with as little as I know. God, though...I think She has a plan, at the very least an ace or two up Her bra."

"...God's a chick," Amy asked in shock.

"Oh, yeah," Ken grinned, "Pretty hot, too. Damn shame She won't indulge on occasion. Oh, well, plenty of wine up there. And I get to watch TV for as long as I want."

Ken tossed his cigarette and his beer, then lowered his hand. Dave stared up at him for a long moment, then took his hand, and the father lifted the son to his feet. He held his hand, though, and grasped it firmly. Dave smiled, realizing that he truly had earned his father's respect.

"Take care of yourself, Son," Ken said, "And your family and friends. Xander's gonna need you later on. You're his Ka-Tet, you two and Elliot. And Amy, I'm proud of you as well. Sorry to spend so much time with Dave, hun, but he can't fall apart. And tell Chris that I'm proud of him too."

Ken Titus nodded to them, one last time, and turned around, walking into the night until he faded from view.

Dave and Amy stared after him for a long moment, then Dave turned to Amy and offered her his hand. She took it and he lifted her up to her feet.

"What now," Amy asked, "Think that was real or the weed?"

"Dunno," Dave said with a grin, "Doesn't matter...wanna have a beer?"

"Sure," Amy smiled, "First take off the panties."

Dave laughed, then unbuckled his pants and let them fall.

"JESUS CHRIST," Amy shouted over Dave's laughs.

"That's not the first time a lady's screamed that when they've seen what I've got to offer," Dave chuckled, pulling his pants over his boxers and buckling them again.

"...That's cause they were so dramatically disappointed," Amy said with a smirk.

Dave glared at her, then ran at her. Yelping, the Slayer turned and ran off, laughing as her uncle chased after her.

ҲҲҲ

"You're serious," Faith said with a small laugh, "They have me down as MIA/KIA? I mean, I don't blame them, but still. You'd think G wouldn't give up on me."

"I don't think he has, either," Xander said, "So, what did happen to you?"

Faith sighed, remembering just what had happened to her starting on that day.

"Adam's forces captured me during our escape attempt. He visited me personally in prison, along with Buffy. He...he told me he was going to experiment on me, try and find out exactly what makes a Slayer a Slayer...to try and make more of them, for his work force and army. They did...so many things to me, X...it was horrible."

"You don't have to tell me," Xander said, not wanting to cause her distress.

"You're right, I don't," Faith said, "But, I feel as though you are owed at least some of the story. They never could figure out exactly what it was, and that was most definitely for the best. Eventually, though, I was broken out...Dawn saved me. She brought me back to Boston, where we grew up, brought me back to health...and introduced me to my husband," Faith took a moment to smile lovingly at Conner MacManus, "We've been married for 4 and a half years now, X. He's...he's everything to me."

Xander smiled for her, once more ruthlessly crushing any jealousy or hurt he may have felt.

"He turned me to God," Faith said, suddenly very serious in a different way, "God, Xander, has been there for me all my life. I used to blame Him for everything, for giving me to my junkie mom, for her dating scumbag after scumbag who would beat and rape me, even for me falling off the deep end...but God was not responsible for any of that. Most of it was caused by the sins of others, as well as my own sin...and some of it was just the nature of the world," she turned to him, "Have you come to God, Xander?"

Xander, who had just been about to ask who Dawn was, felt his tongue fall. Faith...was...well, full of faith now. The MacManus's, he knew, were deeply religious men. It made perfect sense in his mind that they would convert Faith. And while he was slightly off put by the fact that she was asking him about this _now_, in all times and places, a large part of him understood why she was.

She cared for him, and knew he could die...just as he knew she could die.

"Faith..." he sighed aloud, collecting himself, "Lemme tell you what happened to me after I left Sunnydale."

Before he could begin, the radio crackled to life.

"CONTACT," Conner MacManus was saying, "ENEMY CONTACT SPOTTED AT GRID A-1, THAT'S YOU WINCHESTER BOYS! DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT ENGAGE THE TARGET UNTIL IT HAS ENTERED THE BOTTLENECK!!"

"...I'll tell ya later," Xander said with a grin, and the two moved quickly, taking up their posts at the bottleneck.

_Oh, Lord_, he thought to himself, _Bless this Thine P-90, that its led might rain down upon Thy enemies, whom being naughty in Thy sight, shall snuff it. Amen._


	27. Like Xander Scorned Part 2

**Wherever I May Roam**

Disclaimer: own nothing, mayhap in another world, but not in this one, say thankya.

Summary: Xander makes a sacrifice, and we all know that on the Hellmouth, no good deed goes unpunished.

A/N: a special shout-out to the one we know as Sai King, long days and pleasant nights, good sir!

ҲҲҲ

He first saw the ten black-clad beings, moving swiftly for the bottleneck, stopping every once and again to turn back and unload at Jason, whom he could not see just yet. Xander tried hard to put all the movies he'd seen about Jason Voorhees out of his mind, reminding himself that they had a sound strategy and that it could be done. Still, he wished to God that he had taken a piss beforehand. He was seriously scared he was gonna wet himself with as scared as he was.

His fear doubled, though, once the...'man' himself came into view. Jason was twice the size of Xander, and taller even than the man he'd pegged to be Frank Castle (who had just unloaded his SAW directly into his chest, gaining no results). He was a big fucker, moving slowly but intently in that way that he'd used to find comical...and now just found devastatingly frightening.

"Hold," Xander heard Conner call out.

The Punishers had almost all made in through the bottleneck, except for Castle, who was attempting to shoot out the mass murderer's knees, but gaining no success. Castle screamed out as he ejected his clip, then ran back through the bottleneck.

"INCOMING," Castle screamed out, taking his position along with the Punishers as he plunged a new clip into his weapon.

Jason stepped through the doorway, pausing once he crossed the threshold. He was clearly surprised to see them there, but the hesitation last mere moments before he made his way into the room.

"BANGERS," Castle screamed.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE," Conner shouted out.

Xander, along with nearly everyone else in the room, pulled out a flashbang grenade and pulled the pin, then lobbed it at Jason. As they all hit him, the massive murder paused once more in his step, confused as to what was happening. Xander ducked down, slamming his hands over his ears as he did so, and closed his eyes shut.

He felt and heard the impact, and did a ten count. He got up to his feet, the second behind Castle, and saw a sight that filled his heart with hope.

Jason, on his back, squirming slightly as his vision assaulted him.

"OPEN FIRE!" He didn't know where the order came from, but he would be damned if he wasn't gonna obey it.

He leveled his P-90 against the monster and unloaded, round after round, into Jason Voorhees. He was deafened by the roar of the guns going off inside the small space. He felt his body reverberate inside the cavernous space, his chest pounding in and out as the sounds assaulted him. He slowly realized that he had, along with most everyone else, been screaming out in pain, rage, passion, a righteous cry of war that could not stop.

Slowly, the roar died down, giving way to a reality that Xander had foreseen, but had hoped against.

The bullets had not stopped Jason. Even as the men and women ejected their spent clips and slapped in new ones, Jason Voorhees was rising to his feet, his bullet-filled body leaking fluids that should have long since been still. Xander did not even bother to load in a new clip. He knew, in his heart, that there was only one way to end this being.

"Crap," he heard as Jason started to advance on one of the Black Berets, "What do we do?! What the fuck do we do?!?!!"

"Aim for the head," someone called out.

"We HIT the head!"

Xander ignored their words, panicked and frightened, and pulled out the claymore he had obtained in Nebraska. He charged it up and tossed it as hard as he could at Jason's head.

"CLAYMORE," someone shouted out.

"HIT THE DECK OR DIE," Xander shouted out, and he leveled his backup pistol at the claymore, and as soon as he had his shot, he took it.

The explosion was in close proximity to several of the Berets, sending them reeling back as debris and shrapnel was embedded into their skin. Jason, being the epicenter of the blast, was blown backwards into the wall, and his huge body forced the damaged wall to go down.

"Get the fuck out," Conner Murphy was shouting, "Get out!"

"Negative," Castle shouted out, hefting up his SAW at Jason and unloading on him, "Kill him!"

"Soldier, that thing took grenades, claymores, and bullets," Conner shouted, "What makes you think YOU can kill him?!"

"We're the Punishers, Irishman," Castle said, glaring down at him, "We can do this."

"No, you can't," Xander said, jumping down to their level, "We have enough time to get the fuck out of here. Only a moron wouldn't take it. Get everyone out, we're done here."

"Last time I checked, I was in charge here," Castle turned his glare on Xander, and the man had to wonder which was scarier, Jason Voorhees or Frank Castle, "We leave when the mission's accomplished!"

"I am the field expert on Jason Voorhees here," Xander said, "That means you follow _my _word! And I say that, unless you have a nuclear warhead somewhere in that mountain of a body, we need to get the FUCK out of dodge! Now swallow that goddamned pride and let's move out before someone dies!"

Jason was on his feet. He moved quickly, walking, and sliced his machete through the body of a Punisher who had attempted to defend himself with his AK-47, only to meet his end as the blade went through his chest. Voorhees moved fast, pushing the cadaver aside as he slashed the head off of another Beret.

Immediately, the men and women inside the cavern unloaded their weapons at Jason, driving the monster back for a short moment. Voorhees threw his machete, with the aim and strength of a master, and sliced through the body of another Beret. As he pulled the blade out, however, Castle came up and drove the butt of his rifle into Jason's head, driving him back. Castle took aim and shot straight through Voorhees's arm, causing the murderer to drop the machete to the ground. Frank tossed his SAW to the side and pulled out his KABAR, driving it straight into Voorhees's heart.

Jason merely stared at him, then reached out, trying to choke Castle with his own hands. Frank pulled the knife out, intending on driving it into Jason's skull, but Jason lifted Frank's entire body up and drove him into the wall.

Immediately, the remaining Berets were on Jason, trying to pry him off their leader.

"No," Frank shouted out, "Get them out! Get everyone out!! I'll hold him off!!!"

The Punishers shared a strange look amongst themselves, then reluctantly turned away from Castle.

"What, you can't just leave him," Xander shouted.

"Aye," Murphy shouted out, even as a Beret started to push him out, "Get your fuckin' hands off me!"

"Move," one of the Berets shouted, "We've been given a direct order, we shall obey it!! Now move it!!!"

"We can't fucking leave him behind," Faith shouted out, not budging as the Berets tried to force her out.

"We have to!"

The Berets were all forcing Bravo team out. This made no sense to Xander, or anyone else. Soldiers were trained to fight, but to save their own when they could. There was no reason to leave Castle behind...even with Jason there, trying to punch a hole straight through to his heart.

A Beret got in his face and Xander, on impulse, lashed out with a fist, sending the Beret to the ground. Even as the other Berets charged for him, he ran for Jason, withdrawing his machete as he did so, and drove it straight into Jason's neck, attempting to chop his head off.

Jason reached back with his own hand and grabbed the blade before Xander could embed it too far into his neck. In spite of Xander forcing all of his considerable strength into the deed, Jason was able to easily pull the blade out and toss both it and Xander aside.

"Xander," Faith shouted out, going towards him only to be held back by two Berets.

The Winchester Brothers, seeing the opportunity to escape the clutches of the now-distracted Berets, punched out both the Berets that had been holding them back. They ran fast, bringing their rifles up, and began to unload every bit of their ammo at Jason. The monster barely noticed as he finally wrapped his hands around Castle's throat, choking the Punisher.

Sam ran forward and brought the butt of his weapon down on Jason's forearm, causing him to let go of Castle, even as Dean used his own rifle as a club and drove it deep into Jason's knee, bringing the monster to his knee. Castle took the opportunity to drive his KABAR deep into Jason's forehead, easily piercing the brain with little force. Jason seemed to still for a long moment, causing the others in the room to still as well, holding their breaths as they waited for victory to come as Jason would surely keel over and die.

Xander, though, was not convinced. He tried to get to his feet, to grab his machete, to run and swing for Voorhee's head...but by the time he'd gotten to his feet, it was too late.

Jason pulled the blade out of his forehead and drove it into Castle's chest, driving the large commando into the wall with the sheer force of the blow. Dean drove the butt of his rifle into Jason's back, trying to force him down, but Jason turned and slammed his arm into Dean, sending him reeling to the ground.

Sam swung his own rifle, trying to take Jason's head off with it, but Voorhees merely stepped to the side. Sam overspent himself, losing his balance as he did so, and Voorhees grabbed the young Winchester by the throat and, using the same KABAR that had pierced his own skull, drew the blade along the stomach of the young hunter, spilling out blood and the insides before any could stop him.

"SAM!!!" Dean screamed out, lost in the pain, and rose to his feet, slapping a new clip into his rifle as Jason let Sam's body fall to the floor, and he opened fire on him. Jason stared at him for a moment, then began to walk menacingly towards him, shaking off the bullets as if they meant nothing.

Faith, Conner, and Murphy moved forward, past the Berets, and the three brought forth their own weapons and unleashed them upon Jason.

"God, we beseech You," Conner shouted, "Cast this demon from our sight!"

But God did not do this. God would not fight our battles for us. And, as Jason descended upon Dean, the three shared a feeling of hopelessness, for even as they put their weapons away to make for Jason, they knew that the great beast would drive the KABAR deep into Dean before they could save him.

Jason stood in front of Dean, who to his great credit, refused to budge before the sight of this evil. Dean spat into the mask and drove his fist into Voorhees's face, bruising his own hands and denting the mask which had been the last sight for countless victims. Jason grabbed his throat in his hand and easily lifted the man up, bringing the KABAR around to drive deep on Dean's throat.

A machete rose...and fell, slicing Jason's arm off. The machete struck again, slicing through Jason's torso, and it was followed by a hard kick which sent the mass murderer away from Dean, who fell to the floor, coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

"GET HIM OUT," Xander shouted out, watching warily as Jason returned to his feet.

"What about you?!" Faith shouted out.

"Priority," Xander said back as Jason leaned down to retrieve his machete, "Get the wounded out. We can't do that unless one of us-"

He was stopped in his words as a barrage of bullets laid down on Jason, impacting deeply into his upper torso with a few shots impacting his head, sending him down to the floor.

"DIE FUCKER!!!" Xander looked up as Grace Polk, one of the Arcadians, ran for Jason, who was already getting up, shooting off her Uzi as she did so.

"GRACE," the one Xander knew as Luke shouted out, "No!"

"fuck," Xander whispered, then called out, "GET THEM OUT!!!"

Grace continued to run at Voorhees, who by now was to his feet, screaming out in rage and pain as she fired her weapon. It was like slow-motion for Xander. He could see Jason turning, he could see him raising up his blade, swinging it in a deadly arch that threatened to cut the poor girl down in two. He could see Luke, running for her, begging her to stop to no avail. He could see the MacManus brothers, bending down to bring Dean Winchester up to his feet, while Faith had lifted Frank onto her shoulders and was easily bringing him up towards their fallback point. He could not see the Black Berets, cowards that they were for abandoning their commanding officer and comrades in arms.

He couldn't recall making a conscious decision for doing it. He had no real reason or rationale for doing it. All he knew was that he had somehow placed himself between Jason's blade and Grace's bullets. What happened next...took him completely by surprise.

Bullets came against his back. The machete fell against his skin. Yet, neither could pierce his skin...the bullets fell to the ground, flattened and steaming. The force of the blade dropped Xander to the ground, but the blade itself was heavily damaged, cracks visible in the night sky.

Xander slowly, at least for him, came back to reality. He kept on expecting to feel the sticky wetness of his own blood, but instead, found only a pain from his backside where he had fallen from the attack. He stared at nothingness in shock, feeling his body for injuries.

"Mary, Mother of God," he heard someone say, and he looked up.

He was not the only one surprised. Dean, Conner, and Murphy were staring at him, mouths wide open, and the brothers crossed themselves. Faith had been so shocked that she'd allowed Castle to slip from her back and fall to the ground. Luke and Grace were both staring at him, shock and awe written upon their faces. Even Jason was staring down at him in what he knew had to be shock, his weapon still as he observed the miracle before him.

_Wait_, Xander thought to himself, _I just survived two massive blows that should have, and would have killed anyone else? What the fuck??! Wait...Jason's distracted..._

Reality hit him fast, and with that reality, came inspiration. He rose, faster than he thought capable, and arched his weapon high into the air. He cut straight and true, severing Jason's head from his body.

Jason stood aloft for a long moment, his head still atop his shoulders. Slowly, the head fell back, landing on the ground as Jason's body fell atop the head. Against all hope, Xander allowed himself a moment of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they had won and finally killed the unkillable Jason Voorhees.

Sighing, he turned back to the survivors. He was shaking.

"...Let's go."

Silently, the group gathered up their wounded and dead. They brought them back to the fallback point, whereupon they boarded a helicopter bound for Boston. The ride was silent, save for inside the minds of those who had witnessed what would come to be called 'The Miracle at Arcadia.'

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At what was hoped to be Jason Voorhee's final resting place, a pair of sharp spurred cowboy boots echoed in the ruined halls. Flagg sighed, rubbing away at the lovebite Glory had left him.

"Xander, ole boy," Flagg whispered, "What've you done now?"

He sighed, but bent down and lifted Jason's body off his head. He placed the badly damaged head against the neck. With a frown, Flagg walked up to the highest point he could reach while still within sight of the body. He withdrew the Black 13 and raised it up to the heavens.

"...nineteen," he whispered to himself.

A bolt of lightning came down from the heavens. It arched down, impacting upon the ground, going through Jason's body as it did so. The lightning crackled inside his body, bringing the organs that had just shut down back to life, reconnecting the nerve endings which had before been severed, bringing the life that had been extinguished back to this plain of existence.

Flagg sighed, sitting down upon a large piece of rubble as Jason pulled himself together. He stared through the Black Bend, watching as Xander pondered heavily on the events of the night.

"...This makes not one bit of goddamned sense," Flagg muttered to himself, "I mean...Xander was injured by those bullets those two would-be assassins used. And, Hell, I knocked him out!"

Flagg sighed, ignoring Jason as the behemoth rose to his feet. A part of it could be explained. The bullets had been blessed, making them holy. If Hell had somehow strengthened Xander...he did not even want to consider what consequences that could procure. He could not, however, come up with a logical explanation for why he had been able to injure him...unless...a frightening possibility presented itself to his mind.

What if...this was something that had happened recently?

"Damn," Flagg whispered, "I need to talk to someone who knows a lot about Hell," he smiled, "And I just happen to know a hell goddess that I like to fuck. This sounds like fun!"


End file.
